


I'm Just Peter

by Jen27ny



Series: Was that a Star Wars reference, Dr. Stark? [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Blackmail, Dad!Tony, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Loss of Powers, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is smart, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 74,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen27ny/pseuds/Jen27ny
Summary: There was a pattern Peter wasn’t aware of.Whenever his morning started great, his day would end in agony.The morning of his parent’s death had been great. The morning of the OsCorp field trip had been great. The morning of Ben’s death had been great. The morning of the Homecoming dance had been great.This morning started great.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Guess who's back with another part of my series? And because this is part of a series, you kinda need to read the other parts first to fully understand it. Also, I'll be adding more tags with (probably) every chapter, just to not spoiler too much, so keep an eye on it. 
> 
> I'm bad at writing original, good villains. Like, really bad. My heads just jumps straight to all the clichés. So don't expect too much, okay? I promise the villain isn't even that important and I need all my creativity for the emotional stuff that will follow. 
> 
> This is not beta-read. English is not my fist language and I'm just trying my best. Still don't know where to put commas or how cafeterias in America are designed. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

There was a pattern Peter wasn’t aware of.

Whenever his morning started great, his day would end in agony.

The morning of his parent’s death had been great. The morning of the OsCorp field trip had been great. The morning of Ben’s death had been great. The morning of the Homecoming dance had been great.

This morning started great.

When his alarm rang – his phone and the personalized watch Tony made for him – Peter didn’t feel the tired annoyance that usually accompanied all his mornings. Especially considering it was a Monday morning, because they’re the worst mornings _ever_. Instead, he felt refreshed and energized. He didn’t have to stay up late to finish some homework he’d totally forgotten about and his body didn’t need to heal overnight, because his patrol on Sunday morning had been close to boring, just a few tourists that needed directions and two old ladies he helped crossing the street. Peter had spent the afternoon at the Tower, dropping off his suit for the usual maintenance work and having dinner with Tony and Pepper. Then Tony had shown him his new nanotechnology, which totally blew Peter’s mind, almost causing him to jump up to the ceiling in excitement. Which he only didn’t do because Tony didn’t like footprints on his ceilings. Apparently, they’re difficult to clean or whatever, but Peter suspected his father was just jealous that he couldn’t walk on the ceiling.

So, when he woke up on Monday, he had actually slept through the night and rested. There was still warm water for his shower and his new science pun shirt (“This Fibonacci joke is as bad as the last two you heard combined.”) was freshly cleaned and soft against his skin. May, who didn’t need to work early this morning, was in the kitchen, mixing the pancake mix she brought a few days ago while humming a happy tune. It was supposed to be a fail-safe pancake mix, easy to make and impossible to burn, and to Peter’s surprise they actually turned out not too bad. He and May joked and laughed while eating the quite impressive stack of pancakes, and when Peter left for school, he wasn’t only on time, well fed and had his backpack – which he had for over three weeks now, so that was a new record – but he was in a really good mood.

The subway ride to school was uneventful, but he met a dog and a cat, both of which he petted, so that was pretty great, too. Flash didn’t try to hit him with his car and the school bell wasn’t even _that_ loud today. Ned nearly choked when Peter showed him the video from Tony’s demonstration from the day before – which he was allowed to only show Ned and May – and until their first class, they excitingly whispered about all the possibilities of that new technology. MJ smirked at him twice, which was, like, _so_ awesome and did strange things to his stomach, and he got back his Spanish quiz, 100% written on top of it, accompanied by a little smiley.

His morning was great.

Until lunch.

They sat at their usual table, MJ sitting slightly across from them, reading her new book – or maybe pretending to read, Peter wasn’t always so sure about it – when his spidey sense flared up. Peter sat up, one hand instinctively coming up to his neck, eyes quickly scanning his surroundings for the incoming danger. He couldn’t see anything. Then, just as quickly as the sensation came, it went away. Confused, he knitted his eyebrows together, absentmindedly massaging his neck, as if he could coax answers out of it. That wasn’t normal.

“Peter?” He almost jumped out of his seat, looking at Ned who he totally had forgotten about for a second. His friend looked at him with a slightly worried look. “Everything okay?”

“I just -,” Peter stopped, seeing MJ’s eyes darting to him. He swallowed down his answer, convinced that his own body tried to play a joke on him. Obviously, there was no danger around. Not even a spit ball flying to his head. Slowly, he let his hand fall back on the table again. “Yeah, sorry, dude. Kinda zoomed out. What were you saying?”

“I was saying, for our Chemistry project we should totally do –“

Peter never found out what they totally should do for their Chemistry project.

His spidey sense was back, a lot stronger than a few moments ago. Instead of an almost gentle tingling sensation in his neck, it was a full-on vibration, starting in his head and spreading through his body, urging him to _move, now, fast, danger was coming, danger was here, DANGER, DANGERDANGERDANGER_! Everything else was less important, the only thing that mattered was that he moved, and before he even knew what he was doing, Peter jumped to his feet, pulling Ned with him, already leaning across the table to pull MJ up as well.

A blast shot through the doors of the cafeteria. Students screamed, scrambling to their feet and hurrying away from the now smoking doors. Peter instinctively pushed Ned behind him, tried to get in front of MJ as well, but she was too far out of his reach. A man stepped through the newly made hole and if the situation wouldn’t have been so scary, Peter would’ve scoffed. He was clearly a bad guy, checking off almost all the clichés. Tall, buff, next to no hair on his head, some kind of tribal tattoo on his neck, dark clothes and a long coat, a sharp grin and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. The only thing that set him apart from the typical villains from mediocre movies was his weapon. A big gun, so massive that he had to carry it with both hands, with strange, glowing, purple spots on it.

Peter’s stomach dropped. He’d seen those glowing spots before. It was one of Toom’s weapons. How did he even get one of those? Didn’t the FBI – or the police or government or whatever was left of S.H.I.E.L.D or whoever – collect everything he’d made? Didn’t they catch all of his goonies? Ned trembled under his hands, maybe also recognizing the unusual glowing accessories on the weapon.

The man fired the gun again, this time hitting a window that shattered at once. Glass shards rained down on the students, who were trying to run to the other door, the only other exit of the room, all frightened for their lives. “Oh no,” Peter heard the man say thanks to his super hearing and to his horror, he almost sounded amused. The man turned a little knob on the side of the gun and fired at the door. Instead of burning a hole in it, the beam kind of melted the door, morphing it into an impenetrable wall.

They were trapped.

“Now that I have your attention,” the intruder said, this time loud enough for everyone to hear, “you might want to listen.” Nobody was moving. Nobody was saying anything. The only sounds Peter could hear from his classmates were their thundering hearts, their too-fast breathing and soft whimpers. “Very good. I knew you would make the smart decision, seeing that you go to such a fancy nerd school. You’re all little know-it-all’s, am I right?” He looked over the students, enjoying all the power he had. “But don’t worry, I’ll be gone as soon as I get what I want, and I’ll assure you that none of you want to try anything funny. You see, I’m not that smart, I didn’t build this thing and there are so many settings I have no clue what they do. If you’re willing to be a test subject, though … well, I won’t say no to that.” As if he needed to put more fear into the students, he smiled and pointed with the gun across the children. They shrieked and ducked behind the tables, trying to get out of the way should the gun be fired. “Do you all see these pretty little lights? I know one of those was hidden somewhere in this school before.” Ned and Peter glanced at each other, both thinking the same thing. _Shit_. “And I mean, it’s a pretty good hiding place. Who would ever look at a school for stuff like this? So, if you just tell me where the rest of the stuff is, I’ll be on my merry little way.”

There was no other alien technology in the school, but Peter doubted the guy would listen to him. Guilt pooled in his stomach, almost forcing his lunch back up. _He_ brought the strange alien weapon to school. _He_ was the reason why this man was here right now, threatening all his classmates and friends.

Who was he? How did he even get that weapon? How did he find out that something had been at Midtown? Why wasn’t he in prison, like the rest of Toom’s gang? How did he even get into the school? Peter shook his head. Those questions were for later, when everyone else was safe and this guy in handcuffs. The only question that mattered now was how he could get everybody out of here.

With his web shooters, Peter could snatch the gun away and – … His stomach dropped below his knees. Damn his Parker Luck. He didn’t have his web shooters, of course not, because they were at the Tower, together with his suit. There were old prototypes in his locker, but they were also no use because he couldn’t get to them and the web fluid inside them would be dried out. Peter could try to wrestle the gun out of his hands, dodging the beams by sticking to the walls. But without his mask, everyone would know about Spider-Man.

There was nothing he could do, not if he wanted to keep his identity a secret. But if everyone was in danger, did he have the luxury to think like that? To put his own needs over the safety of his peers?

A thought struck him like lightning. His right hand shot to his left wrist. His watch. The panic button. Without hesitation, he pressed the button once, sending an alert to Tony to call him as soon as possible.

In hindsight, Peter often wondered if things would’ve turned out differently if he’d pressed the button twice or even three times. If he’d sent an alert that Tony and everyone else needed to come now, immediately. But Peter hadn’t done it, because of the small, but insistent voice in his head that always told him not to bother Tony. After all, he had a very important meeting with the UN regarding the Accords today. Tony had been rambling about it for days, trying to downplay the importance of it, but Peter wasn’t fooled. He knew how badly his father wanted that meeting to go well. Besides, he was Spider-Man! He should still be able to do something, to handle this situation, even without his suit. And he was the reason why this man was here. He should at least try to clean up his own mess, not scream for help whenever there was a bit of trouble.

So, Peter pressed the button once.

“I’m waiting!” the man barked, loading the gun again and turning the knob to another unknown setting. The purple glow intensified and a ringing noise was echoing through the quiet room, throbbing inside Peter’s head.

“S-Sir, we don’t know what you’re talking about,” someone – Cindy, Peter realized – finally said, brave enough to raise her voice. “We’ve never seen st-stuff like that before. P-Please.”

The man smiled, almost gentle, if it wasn’t for the mean, kind of crazy look in his eyes. “And I don’t believe you. Because someone in this school must know what it is. And that someone should step forward. Now, before I get angry.”

“Peter,” Ned whispered, pulling at his arm, “wh-what are we going to do?” Peter didn’t know, but he couldn’t say that. He was Spider-Man. He was a superhero. He should know what to do. But he didn’t.

Suddenly, his spidey sense flared up again, alerting him that danger was coming from behind, not the man with the alien gun in front of him. Peter whipped his head around, just in time to see something fly through the shattered window. His first thought was that it was one of Tony’s armors, coming to his rescue, maybe even Tony himself – but the iconic noise of his thrusters was missing. Peter caught a glimpse of silver and red, not red and gold.

Students screamed again as the man fired at the flying thing, but he missed, the glowing, purple ball hitting the ceiling. The entire building vibrated and Peter feared it would collapse. For a nanosecond, he wasn’t in the cafeteria, but in an old warehouse, at night, alone, tons of steel and concrete crushing him. Then the moment passed. The building was still standing. Whatever flew through the air landed on one of the abandoned tables. It turned out that it wasn’t whatever, but whoever.

And not just _any_ whoever.

“That’s Falcon,” Ned whispered beside Peter, his eyes comically big, mouth open, staring at the winged – former? – superhero. “That’s Falcon!” His friend wasn’t the only one that recognized Sam Wilson. A rumble swashed through the cafeteria, one student after the other pointing to him, asking how he got here, what he was doing here and shouldn’t he be on the run right now?

However, Peter was asking himself an entirely different question. He knew who Sam hung out with, knew who he was on the run with – and Peter would bet all the money that was on the bank account Tony had made for him and that he still didn’t know how to spend that Sam wasn’t alone.

A hot stone dropped inside his stomach and for a moment, Peter didn’t know what to think or feel.

“Aren’t you a little old for High School?” Sam asked, standing tall and confident on the table. His wings folded into his backpack. “But I guess it’s never too late to get some education, am I right?”

“Oh, aren’t you a funny one,” the man growled, clearly not amused.

“Well, someone has to be.”

The guy didn’t laugh, instead charged the gun again. But before he could fire, Peter’s neck tingled again, just as something rammed into the melted door. The people closest to the door were pressing themselves to the wall, trying to get both away from the door and the gunned man. There was another slam against the door, followed by tense silence, and then something burst through it.

Well, wrong again.

That something turned out to be a someone. A someone who every single person in the room recognized, because no unkept hair, no rugged beard and no dark clothes could make any of them forget the, quite frankly, unnecessary amounts of PSA videos they had to watch. They would recognize that face and that stare anywhere, anytime.

“Is that Captain America?” Abe asked, though it was clearly a rhetorical question. Or maybe a mass hallucination. Because Steve Rogers was a fugitive, running away from the law, hiding God knows where, not allowed to set a foot on American soil. And now he was standing in their cafeteria.

This time, the gunman didn’t make any comments, just pointed the charged gun at the All-American hero and fired. But before the beam could get anywhere near Steve Rogers, something – which turned out to be a tray – flew in its way and exploded on impact. To be honest, Peter wasn’t that surprised. His spidey sense had warned him.

Also, they were kind of a trio.

When a blond-haired woman stepped out from behind Rogers, there was a collective, confused murmur. To Peter’s and Ned’s surprise, it was MJ who recognized her first. “That’s Black Widow,” she said, which earned her more than a few confused stares. In true MJ-fashion, she openly stared back and shrugged. “She was the first female Avenger for years. I had a poster of her in my bedroom. A different hair color and straight hair won’t make me forget what she looks like.” MJ was right, it was Natasha Romanoff who threw the tray at the maybe-deadly beam. Now, she was standing next to Steve, wearing a black suit very similar to the one Peter saw her in in Germany, arms at her side, looking way too relaxed for all the fear and anxiety in the room.

The level of said fear and anxiety dropped, though. Understandably, after all there were now three adults, capable of fighting the big, bad man with the big, bad gun. They all knew they were definitely more save now. Well, all but Peter. Yes, there had been a wave of relief crashing over him when he recognized them, because they could help. Peter didn’t need to act alone, didn’t need to reveal that he was Spider-Man, and they were more experienced than him in fighting villains.

Then he remembered who exactly came to their aid. The soldier that ignored the pleas for safety from over 100 countries. The spy that turned on Tony. The superhero that rammed his shield into his father’s chest. Suddenly, Peter didn’t feel all that safe anymore. Or maybe that were just not the right words, because it was more like he was angry that _they_ were the ones to save them. He felt outnumbered, even though Peter doubted the trio would attack him. Still, he didn’t want them to be here, didn’t want to face them alone.

With confidence born out of anger, Peter pressed the panic button his watch twice. The watch vibrated gently, a caricatural Iron Man mask popping up, as well as a countdown that would announce Tony’s arrival. Five minutes and forty-two seconds never seemed longer.

“Put the gun down, Barrett,” Rogers said, stepping forward with a confidence that Peter thought was misplaced. The captain didn’t have a shield or any weapon and nobody knew what that gun could do. Then again, it was probably a bad move to look insecure in front of your opponent.

“Oh, now that Captain America is asking, I have to do it, don’t I?” the man – Barrett – mocked. Instead of putting the weapon down, he changed the settings again. The charging ringing was higher pitched now, hurting right behind Peter’s eyes.

“Sam, Nat, get the kids out of here,” Steve said, probably into comms, because it was barely louder than a whisper. Peter still picked it up, though. “I’ll distract him.”

“And you can do that without getting hit by a gun that’s powered by Chitauri technology?” Natasha asked, while she mentioned for the students around her to escape through the door. They didn’t wait a second, hurrying out of the cafeteria. It wasn’t everyone, though. More than half of the students stood on the other side, the side closest to the criminal with the big gun. The nearest exit was the one Barrett was standing in, and everyone knew they wouldn’t be able to run to the other door without getting shot at. They were still trapped.

“She’s right. We don’t know how that thing works or what it’ll do to you,” Sam chipped in.

“If I’ll get hit, I’ll just walk it off.”

“Have you seen the door he’s standing in? How the hell do you want to walk _that_ off?”

Rogers didn’t get a chance for a good comeback, because Barrett shot again. This time, it wasn’t directed at the adults in the room, but the escaping children. Two junior girls stopped dead in their tracks, frozen in absolute fear, not even able to scream as they watched the beam of light coming closer and closer. Before they got hit though, Wilson flew to them, snatching them away and dropping them a few feet away. The beam of light hit the wall and exploded, but the wall was still standing, almost unscratched.

“Let the kids go,” Black Widow said, stepping closer to Barrett. “They’ve got nothing to do with this.”

“They got everything to do with his,” he growled in response, while changing the settings and loading the gun again. Peter’s neck started to tingle gently.

“Nobody got hurt yet,” Rogers tried to argue. “This can end okay, but only if you stop right now.”

Barrett scoffed, clearly not believing a single word the man was saying. But, to be honest, was anyone in the room believing him? How could _this_ end okay? “Yeah, sure. Do you really try to tell me I won’t go to prison if I just stop now?”

“Oh, your ass will definitely land in prison,” Wilson said, joining his colleagues. “Your record doesn’t look too good.”

He smiled, the dangerous and slightly insane look back in his eyes. The tingle in Peter’s neck grew stronger. “I know, right? So, it won’t make any difference if I’ll do this.” He fired the gun again.

The gun that was aiming directly at MJ.

MJ who hadn’t even processed that she should move _right now_ or she would get hit.

Peter’s body moved way before his brain could caught up. Not caring about anyone figuring out that he was Spider-Man and simply focused on getting his friend out of danger, he jumped over the table, pushing her out of the way – and got hit right in his chest.

Later, Ned would recount what followed with every little detail, which was, frankly, a little bit excessive. Apparently, the purple ball, that was roughly the size of a basketball, exploded the second it hit his chest. The small explosion was strong enough to throw him several feet through the air until Peter hit the wall with a sickening crack. There was an actual dent in the wall. Everyone screamed as he slid down the wall, slumping on the ground, just laying there. Unmoving, not reacting to anything, as if he were dead.

Peter couldn’t remember any of it. As soon as the ball touched him, his vision went dark and the weirdest feeling took over. There was no explosion. Instead, it felt like the ball of energy or whatever it was, was seeping inside him, getting sucked inside his body. Once it was inside him, it only got weirder. Peter swore he could feel the energy moving in him, getting in his blood and traveling through his body with every single, way too fast heartbeat. No, even smaller than that. Like it was getting between his molecules, breaking them apart and singling his atoms out, building walls around them around them to keep them separate, until the energy also pushed inside them.

Then, as if it wasn’t enough, everything started shaking. The energy was making the atoms jump around his body. It felt like when you put a lot of marbles in a box and violently shake it, mixing everything up. Peter was the box and his atoms were the marbles – but then who was shaking the box? It was giving him a headache and he wanted to throw up, but he had absolutely no control over his body or thoughts. Finally, the shaking stopped and everything settled down, but it felt, for a lack of a better word, _wrong_. Like everything was not there were it was supposed to be and it felt … sticky. Invaded. Like there was something that shouldn’t be there.

His vision came back to him. However, everything was blurry. Thinking straight was difficult. His sense of orientation had left him, and Peter was only 45 % sure where up and down was. He could barely wonder why he was laying near the wall. Confused, Peter blinked a couple of times, getting rid of his blurry vision, and took a deep breath. It was harder to breath, like the air couldn’t get into his lungs properly. He felt like he was missing something important, that he missed a crucial detail to figure out what was going on, but before he could ponder about it for longer, sounds came back to him.

“PETER!” That was Ned.

With an aching body, Peter craned his neck around to get a look at his friend, who was cowering next to him. Panic was written all over his face and he was pale. Peter tried to say something, to reassure him that everything was fine, but it felt like he didn’t have enough air to get anything out. He started wheezing and for a second, his vision got blurry again. When everything was back in focus, Ned looked even more freaked out. “Peter?” he asked, barely loud enough for the young superhero to understand. “W-W-What’s happening? You look like –“

Peter didn’t know what he looked like. Strong hands pulled him up, getting him into a sitting position with his back resting against the wall. His head was swimming. His senses were kind off acting up, like they couldn’t decide if they were turned up to eleven or dialed down to three. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a dark figure.

“It’s okay,” the figure said, “just take a deep breath. You’re gonna be alright, son.”

With a lot more effort than he liked, Peter concentrated on the figure and realized that it was Steve Rogers. His hand was on his shoulder and he was giving him a small smile, as if to reassure him that everything would really be alright if he just trusted him. Somehow, Peter got enough air into his lungs to form word. “I’m not your son.” Honestly, he didn’t mean to sound quite so spiteful. But having the man who almost killed his father call him son? No. Just no. Those words were worse than his crazy senses right now.

Steve looked a bit taken aback and his hand disappeared from his shoulder. As if it had been everything that was keeping him upright, Peter could feel himself slumping to the side again. Someone – maybe Ned? – yelped his name again and he fell against something soft.

“Peter, open your eyes!” A different voice, one he was sure he knew, but he never heard it with so much raw panic. Opening his eyes, which was a lot more difficult than before, he recognized MJ sitting next to Ned, who was holding him in a firm grip with shaking hands. Peter wanted to say that he was glad that she was okay and unharmed, but all that came out of his mouth was a pathetic wheezing sound. He took another deep breath, but it still wasn’t enough. It felt eerily familiar, but his mind was in such a state of chaos that he couldn’t place it.

Sounds came and went in bits and pieces. He could hear snaps of conversations, students screaming and crying, a gun being fired, someone fighting – who was fighting again? He felt like he should know it. It was important. But he just couldn’t remember. His memories were as blurry as his vision.

After a few moments, Peter noticed that Ned was talking to him. He only heard half of it, everything being either way too loud for his ears or muted. “Peter, hold on, okay? A few more … he arrives. He will … you know he will, he’s … Look, your … and then … fine, you’ll see.” He tried to tell him that he didn’t know what his best friend was talking about, but instead of words only a violent cough escaped his lips. Ned’s and MJ’s faces grew paler. “ … old one in you locker, right? I can … and everything will turn out fine … Do you remember any … from back then? Just do … now, they have to help.”

What was he talking about? What was in his locker? Something old? Oh, right, his old web shooters. Was he talking about them? But he couldn’t do that when MJ was right next to him! MJ didn’t know he was Spider-Man. Besides, he couldn’t even sit upright. How the hell was he supposed to fight in this state?

It got worse. His vision got blurrier and blurrier, breathing got harder, like he was getting air but no oxygen. His brain needed oxygen, though, that much he could remember. The sudden and rapid change between no sound at all to too much sound was giving him a major headache. On top of all of that, Peter’s body still felt weird and wrong. He tried to fight it, but how could he? How could he fight something that was inside him?

The last things he noticed before he lost consciousness, were his friends’ panicky pleas for him to stay awake, a flash of red and gold, and a familiar whoosh-sound. Then, everything turned black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all!
> 
> First of all, thank you so, so much for all of your support! I really appreciate it and all your comments make my day so much better. 
> 
> A massive thank you to [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) who was kind enough to beta-read for me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

As if Tony’s day hadn’t been bad enough before he got the panic alert from Peter.

First of all, he’d woken up alone because Pepper had to leave really early in the morning for a business trip to Barcelona. Which also meant that he had to psyche himself up on his own for his UN meeting. He’d been dreading this meeting for weeks now. There were actual, old-fashioned flashcards with his most important points he’d been studying for the past few days – and, yes, he got that idea from the time he had tested Peter on his Spanish vocabulary. He’d researched the standpoints of every single delegate that would be attending, figuring out who would be on his side and who would give him trouble. Happy had picked up his best I’m-a-serious-businessman Armani suit from the best dry cleaner in Manhattan yesterday. Tony had chosen his least flashy glasses.

The meeting _had_ to go well and the billionaire knew that was a close to impossible task. Ross would be attending, which was just _blergh_, but he had to deal with it. More delegates than ever before would be there, quite a few who wanted push for harsher restrictions. Most of them didn’t even take him seriously because of his past behavior towards politics, law and rules in general. Hence the serious outfit and the over-the-top preparation.

Because this didn’t just affect him. It affected Rhodey, too. And Peter, as soon as Spider-Man would sign the Accords. Which Tony knew he would because Peter was already asking about it and he fought for them in Germany and Tony had signed them, so he should sign them, too, right? It was an argument they’d had _a lot_ of times and Tony knew he couldn’t win it without looking like a hypocrite. At least he could get him to not sign them before the kid turned eighteen, which gave him two years to revise them until they were good enough for his son to sign them. Which was basically impossible, but it wouldn’t be the first time Tony did something that was considered impossible.

The meeting had been absolutely strenuous. Tony had smiled and shaken hands, been very polite and respectful, refrained from being sassy or snarky no matter how much he wanted to be, had held his opening speech without a hitch, and kept reminding everyone that they were talking about the Avengers as an international task force and how to manage them and not how to categorize or deal with enhanced individuals – not _mutants_, not _freaks_, not any other slur that some unintentionally or intentionally used, but _enhanced individuals_. That was also one of the reasons why the meetings for the Accords were always so annoying. Nobody seemed to remember that the Avengers and dealing with enhanced individuals were two separate things. Ross wasn’t helping either. He was clearly using the Accords as some kind of stepping stone for his own agenda, but Tony wasn’t going to let him succeed. Not when Rhodey and Peter were on the line. So, he persistently showed up to every meeting, much to the displeasure of a certain Secretary of State, and made sure they were staying on the topic.

Tony was listening to the point of view from the delegate of Venezuela on accountability when his watch vibrated once. Because of the meeting, he’d given FRIDAY strict orders to not disturb him unless it was an emergency. His blood pressure rose as he quickly checked the notification. A panic alert from Peter to call him. His son’s heart rate was up, indicating his panic, and his tracker located him at his school.

At once, Tony felt his own panic taking a firm grip on him, but he forced it to calm down. It could be Peter being nervous about a test or something. Maybe he’d forgotten some homework at the Tower? After all, Tony had helped him with some work for his Physic class last week. Also, if something really bad happened, he wouldn’t have pressed the button once but more often. Peter was a smart kid, he knew when to call for back-up. Tony ignored the part of his brain that reminded him that the kid was indeed smart, but also a self-sacrificing idiot who didn’t want to bother anyone and certainly did not know when to call for back-up. He quickly checked the time. Their lunch break was scheduled to begin in the next ten minutes. He would call him then.

Two minutes and twelve seconds later, his watch vibrated twice. Tony’s heart dropped.

He could vaguely remember that he stood up and mumbled something along the lines of _there’s an emergency, I have to go,_ before he was out of the room and running to the nearest exit, his pounding heart almost cracking his ribcage. FRIDAY had already activated the suit that was stored in his car, so it would be waiting for him the second he stepped out of the building. Tony longed for the day he would actually finish his vision of the nano-suit, especially for situation like this.

As soon as he was outside – a little balcony where a few startled men and women in business suits were having a smoke – his suit raced to him, enclosing him and he took off. The suit flew on autopilot, which was probably the smart choice, because Peter’s vitals were pulled up on the screen and they weren’t looking good. Concentrating on something as trivial as flying was out of question. A countdown was running way too slow for Tony’s liking in the right corner. “Thrusters at 200%,” Tony ordered, knowing it would take a lot more energy, but the only important thing was that he was getting to his boy.

One minute and 2 seconds later, Peter’s vital went absolutely crazy. They were dropping, then spiking, before dropping again. It continued, so fast that Tony was barely able to keep up. “FRIDAY, what is happening?”

_“I am not sure. It appears Mr. Parker had been injured in some way.”_

He could literally feel himself turn pale. What kind of injury would cause something like that? “Where’s Helen right now? Tell her to come to the Tower immediately.”

_“Dr. Cho is currently in Seattle and wishes to not be disturbed.” _

“Tell her Peter had been injured and send her his current vitals.” Before his AI could even answer, he continued. “Tell her she’ll fly with one of my jets, there should be one in Seattle. Tell her I’ll play her ten times her usual rate. Shit, tell her I will personally search the entire galaxy and nine realms for Thor and make him take her on a date.” Desperation was getting a tight grip on him and his left arm started to ache. “Just … tell her it’s important. It’s Peter.” Helen loves Peter, like pretty much everyone who ever met him. The boy had been babbling and raving about her groundbreaking work when they’d met, and Tony had noticed the gentle smile that had been tucking on her lips. He had never gotten that smile.

For a few seconds, the only thing Tony could hear – besides his way too loud and fast heartbeat – was the hissing of the thrusters. Then, FRIDAY spoke up again: _“Dr. Cho agrees to travel to New York. She requests that the medical team at the Tower will execute different tests as soon as possible.”_

“Yes, let them know what’s going on and have them prepare everything.” Besides Helen Cho, there were a few other doctors and nurses on Tony’s payroll, exactly for situations like this. They were all hand-picked, vetted and he’d run very excessive background checks on them, making sure they all had proper experiences with enhanced individuals and were trustworthy. NDA’s had been signed, quite a few actually, before Tony had them let even anywhere near Peter, because they had to know that he was Spider-Man. How else should he explain how a nerdy teenager got gun-shot wounds that healed within hours? 

But to keep the people who knew Spidey’s identity to a minimum, the billionaire made extra sure to keep them happy. He paid them a medium sized fortune, extra hefty bonuses whenever they were working the night shift or on holidays. He covered all their insurances, paid for team building activities (basically going out to dinner or getting drinks), bought them whatever fancy equipment they desired, let them do their personal research whenever they wanted, and stopped by regularly to chat with them, making them feel welcomed and looked after. The only condition was that someone was always available the second Tony called for them.

They were getting closer to the school. Peter’s vitals weren’t getting better. Quite the opposite. “Can you get a hold of him?”

_“I already tried to reach Mr. Parker several times, but he does not answer his phone.” _

_Shit_. “Do a scan of him as soon as we’re close enough. Are there any reports about what’s going on?”

_“The police were informed and are on their way. However, I could not find out what has happened.”_

“What about social media? Kids these days post everything.”

FRIDAY hesitated. It was always a bad sign when she did that. “_There are a few entries. However, I am not sure if they are reliable.” _

“Why? What do they say?”

_“They claim that Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Sam Wilson are at the scene, Boss.” _

If Tony had been walking, he would’ve tripped. If he had been flying on his own, he would have crashed into the next building. Peter was injured severely, based on his vitals. Three former Avengers were rumored to be there, too. Could there be a connection? “Thrusters at 300%.”

Soon, the billionaire could see Midtown High. The tracker inside Peter’s watch located him in his cafeteria, and FRIDAY highlighted the best entry point. A shattered window. A window, that shouldn’t be shattered, was shattered. Three of his former friends were there. His son was injured and not picking up his calls. He tried to banish all his paranoia and pessimism, telling himself that he wasn’t too late, that his boy would be alright, that everything would turn out just fine. He was only a few seconds away now.

Finally, _finally_, he reached the school, flying through the window and landing with a heavy _thunk_ in the cafeteria, the floor cracking. The room was in an absolute state of chaos. The first thing he noticed were the crying students, all squeezed in a corner of the room. Both doors had been destroyed in one way or the other. Walls were scorched, as well as some of the interior. A man in a long coat and a big, glowing gun was staring almost dumbfounded at him. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Sam Wilson were indeed present. Tony couldn’t see straight. Something started to burn in his stomach, making its way up to his chest, but before he could get a word out, someone else caught his attention.

“Mr. Stark!” At once, Tony turned around and his eyes zeroed in on the three kids sitting on the floor near the wall. Ned had been the one to call out for him, his face pale and panic in his eyes. The girl next to him – MJ, who the genius only knew from pictures and Peter’s stories – looked similarly shaken. In Ned’s arms lay Peter, eyes closed and most likely passed out, looking the complete opposite of okay. His face was unusually ashen and even then his features pulled into a grimace of pain. Tony hoped it was because of his friend’s iron grip around his torso, his knuckles white, and not because of something else.

In a second, he was at their side. FRIDAY had already run the scan, sending it to Helen and the Medbay at the Tower, and Tony retracted his helmet. “Peter?” he asked, kind of hoping his voice would pull the boy back into consciousness. “Wake up, you hear me?”

“He passed out,” Ned answered, his eyes darting from Peter to Tony to something behind the superhero. “H-He had been hit by that gun and I, well, we think it works with alien power and it looks like it has so many settings and I don’t know which one he used, but it touched him and exploded and threw him against that wall and he-he just collapsed.” Tony glanced to the wall Ned was looking at and got nauseous when he saw the damage. Normally, Peter walked away from something like this without a scratch, thanks to his healing. But, clearly, this wasn’t normal. Because he was laying on the floor, looking way too close to death than Tony was comfortable with.

“FRIDAY, scan the weapon,” he ordered, not taking his eyes from Peter. He reached out to put a hand on his cheek, fingers still engulfed in the armor. Again, Tony wished he’d already finished the nano-suit. It would simply retract, actually allowing him to feel Peter’s skin. A sense of helplessness flooded through his veins.

“I-I don’t think he’s okay,” Ned said in a small voice.

“But he will be,” MJ said vigorously, as if she could make her words true if she was just saying them aggressive enough.

Tony wanted to say something, but before he could even think of a reassuring answer, he was interrupted. “Oh, now that Iron Man is here, it’s a party!” That was the man with the gun. The man that had shot Peter. The man that was responsible for his boy laying on the floor with a mysterious medical condition. Without even looking at him, Tony fired a shot, trusting FRIDAY to do the aiming. Something exploded and kids screamed, but he didn’t care. Peter, who could hear the softest whisper from blocks away, didn’t even flinch at the loud noise. Tony was very aware that the trio of rogue superheroes was watching him, probably expecting him to fire at them next. And he wanted to.

In fact, there were a lot of things Tony wanted to do.

He wanted to beat that man up that hurt his son. No, not beat him up. Kill him. He wanted to 100% kill him. He wanted to take that gun, point it at the man and fire it as many times as he wanted. He wanted to snap that gun in half. He wanted to be snappy to his old teammates. He wanted to punch Steve in the face, ask Natasha why she betrayed him, and ask Sam if it’s fun to be on the run. He wanted to scream and rage and let everybody know that you _do not fucking touch his kid_ or else.

But there was only one thing he _needed_ to do.

He needed to make sure that Peter was okay. That was his top priority. He could do all the other stuff after he knew he would see Peter smile and laugh again.

“I’m gonna take him to the Tower,” Tony said, reaching out to take Peter. “The Medbay is already prepping for him.” There was a part of him that urged him to stay until the entire situation was solved. But police were on their way, there were three other adults present who had a lot of experience with these kinds of situations, and no other kid seemed to be harmed. His son, on the other hand, looked worse with every second that passed.

Ned watched Peter as Iron Man pulled him out of his arms. He was as limp and lifeless as a rag doll. “Mr. Stark, I think - …” His eyes darted to MJ, who looked nothing like the confident girl Peter always described her as, and he swallowed. “Peter was really having trouble breathing and scrunching his face, like he couldn’t see properly, and I haven’t seen him do that for like, several months, y’know, not since –“

Tony didn’t let Ned finish.

He should’ve let him finish.

“I’ll take care of him, Ned, I promise,” he tried to calm the boy down, knowing he was a nervous rambler, just like Peter. Carefully, he stood up, making sure he was holding his son in a tight grip. His helmet reappeared back around his head. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Before anyone could even think about an answer, Tony was already flying away again. It would only take him a few minutes to get to the Tower, but that seemed too long. In fact, every second that passed was too long for him. His thrusters were already at the maximum and in that moment, he seriously considered inventing teleportation.

“Why did you hesitate?” Tony asked, because he was a nervous rambler, too. And who knew? Maybe the boy would actually wake up and answer him. Oh, please let him suddenly wake up and answer him. “Why didn’t you press the panic button three times from the start?”

While Peter was still unconscious, Tony could only imagine his answers. _Because you’re at that really important meeting today, and I thought I had it under control. It wasn’t even _that_ bad in the beginning! I didn’t want to like, overreact or something. _

“It wouldn’t have been overreacting. If someone with weird technology comes to your school, you call for someone who knows how to deal with it.”

_But I do know how to deal with it! I’m Spider-Man! _

“Not in that moment. You didn’t have your suit or your web-shooters. So, if there’s something strange going on, who you gonna call?”

In his head, Tony saw Peter’s blinding smile, the one that was impossibly wide and made his eyes light up, as well as the entire room – that smile that never failed to remind him why he’s fighting for a better world. _Ghostbusters_! Tony knew there was no chance in hell Peter would just ignore a movie reference like that. If there was even the slightest chance that he’d heard any of the one-sided conversation, he would have screamed that word before singing the iconic tune.

Peter stayed quiet and Tony’s heart clenched. 

When he landed by the back entrance of the Tower, a few doctors and nurses were already waiting for him. As gently as he could, Tony lowered his boy onto a stretcher. They immediately started checking his pulse, throwing terms and words around that the billionaire only half-understood, and wheeled him back inside. The suit opened and Tony stumbled out of it, hurrying after them. “I-I need to …” He didn’t finish the sentence. There was so much he needed to do. His head was spinning.

One of them stopped and turned around to him, while the rest of the team continued and ignored their panicking boss. The nurse, Claire Temple, stared at him for a moment and Tony wondered what she saw. A mess? Because he felt like one. One giant mess. His kid got shot by an unknown weapon and looked like he was already halfway through death’s door. Claire gave him a small smile. Tony remembered how she’d stayed the night when Peter had pretty much shattered every bone in his right arm and played board games with the boy throughout the entire night. “We’re going to take care of him,” she said in a very patient voice.

“I can help.” He really couldn’t have. He knew nothing about medicine. That’s why he hired so many doctors.

“Then help by letting us do our job. You do yours. Figure out what that weapon was.” Before Tony could even figure out how to answer that, she ran after her colleagues.

The ache in his left arm was getting stronger. His hands started shaking. Breathing got hard and there was only one thought on repeat in his head. _Is Peter going to be okay?_ Tony could feel his legs getting weaker and reached for the wall to steady himself. He couldn’t have a panic attack right now. He needed – no, _Peter_ needed him to figure out what that gun was. That was his job, his mission. He could have as many panic attacks as he wanted after he knew everything would be alright.

As a man on a mission, Tony all but raced to his lab, having FRIDAY pull up the scan from the weapon and started to work. The weapon was indeed powered by alien tech. Chitauri tech, to be exact. The design was so similar to the ones the Vulture had been dealing with that Tony just assumed the man had been working with Toomes. The real problem were all the settings, over 50 in number. By looking at the internal workings of the gun, Tony could get an idea of what some of them were doing, but it was purely speculation. The different energy core could completely change the way it works. He compared it with the few notes he had from 2012, even compared it with everything he had about the Tesseract – which turned out to be absolutely useless because that was a completely different kind of energy – but he still couldn’t get anything that was telling him what was happening to his boy. Then there was Peter’s biology. Since the spider bite, he wasn’t completely human anymore. He was 2% spider and that could change everything. So, really, Tony had nothing.

He longed for Bruce, not for the first time since he’d last seen him. If there was anyone who could crack this, it was Bruce. Tony made a mental note to also search for his friend when he was hauling Thor’s ass back to earth for the date with Helen.

The mechanic was elbow deep in the holographic scan of the weapon, disassembling it piece by piece, when FRIDAY spoke up. _“Boss, there is a situation that demands your attention.”_ Before Tony could even take a breath or calm his still racing heart, the AI clarified her statement. _“It does not concern Mr. Parker. The medical team still performs tests on him and his status is unchanged.”_

“What’s the situation then?” he asked. FRIDAY wouldn’t interrupt him if it wasn’t serious. And to be more important than figuring out how to help Peter… that was close to impossible.

_“Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Sam Wilson just entered the building.” _

Tony’s first question was why they even had access to the Tower, but then he remembered. He’d never taken away their access. Even though they’d primarily spent their time at the compound, he’d made sure that everyone could still go to the Tower if they wanted or needed to. After Germany, Tony had kind of forgotten about the code for the Tower – though not for the compound – because in his mind, he’d already sold the building. Also, he’d never imagined that they wanted to return there.

Two very different emotions and needs clashed against each other in Tony’s chest. On the one side, he needed to figure out what kind of weapon this was to help Peter. But on the other side, there was this almost overwhelming need to tell those three to fuck off. Peter got hurt when they were present. Now they were here again. What if Peter got more hurt because of it? And, yes, it was a completely illogical thought, but that didn’t change anything. His still-somewhat-new parental instinct told him to shield his boy from anything that was dangerous and the three superheroes were extremely dangerous if they decided to attack.

“Tell them I’ll call Ross and the police and the entire army if they don’t leave in the next three seconds,” he finally said, hoping he could do both – keep working and tell Rogers and Co to fuck off – but, of course, it wasn’t that easy.

_“I already did that.”_

“Good girl,” he smiled, before hesitating. “So, did you already call everyone or do you want my permission?”

_“I did not call anyone. They requested a meeting with you.”_

“And why the hell would I agree to it?”

_“Because they claim they have valuable information concerning Mr. Parker’s situation.”_

In that moment, Tony knew he’d lost. Because he couldn’t say no to that. Loki, Ultron, and Obadiah Stane could stand in his Tower and ask for him, saying they knew something that could help Peter – and Tony would talk to them.

Absently, the genius started to massage his left wrist, easing the pain that had suddenly shot back into his arm, while he walked along the empty corridors to the conference room FRIDAY had sent them to. A million thoughts were racing through his head, and yet he was completely unable to catch any of them. He had no plan for what to say or how to behave or how to react to anything they would say – but that was kind of his style, wasn’t it? Just rolling with it and improvising? That should be good enough.

If Pepper were here, she would remind him that it wasn’t good enough.

Way too fast, he arrived at the conference room, one that wasn’t completely encased in glass walls to symbolize transparency or whatever. Tony sniffed once, put his shades back on, took a deep breath, thought about Peter laying almost lifeless a few stories under his feet, and opened the door in one grand gesture, strutting inside the room with his head held high.

The first thing he noticed – besides the tightness in his chest that suddenly appeared – were their civilian clothes, the baseball caps and sunglasses they took off when he closed the door behind him. The billionaire couldn’t help but scoff. “I see that you’re on the top of your disguise game here. Baseball caps and sunglasses, really? Your faces are all over social media right now and you think _those_ will help?”

The three Rogue Avengers – his former teammates, his former friends, his former _family_ – shared a look, before Steve took a step forward, his mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile. “Tony, it’s good to –“

Before the soldier could continue, Tony held up a hand. “Stop. I’m not here to exchange pleasantries. And the only acceptable reason for _you_ being here is to tell me that that bastard is tied up in a trunk somewhere and you’re here to deliver the keys to the car and his weapon to me.”

They shared another look and he instantly knew that they weren’t here to deliver keys or the weapon. Tension filled the room. Tony realized how outnumbered he was. A part of his brain calculated how long it would take one of his suits to get to the conference room. Surprisingly, it was Sam who broke the silence first. “How’s the kid?” Tony’s head whipped around to him and for a second, he couldn’t think straight. “You took him here, didn’t you?”

The billionaire couldn’t answer, because he was 99% sure he would completely lose his shit immediately if he opened his mouth. But the other didn’t seem to understand that. “He’s very brave,” Steve said, maybe thinking it was a safe topic, while it was actually like walking on a minefield, blindfolded. “He got hit because he pushed his friend out of the way.” Of course. Tony almost laughed. Of course, Peter tried to protect his friends and got hurt because of it.

“How do you know a High Schooler, anyway?” Natasha asked, because Tony still wasn’t able to – or refuse to – answer any of their questions.

A sudden realization hit him. They didn’t know. Didn’t know who or how important he was or what his connection to Tony was. Back in Germany, Peter had – wisely – decided not to reveal his identity to anyone on the team. Probably because he was embarrassed about his age, but it didn’t really matter, because nobody had asked any questions, not even Nat. They just had greeted him with a nod and focused back on the task on hand. Rhodey had found out who was underneath the Spider-Man mask about three months after the Homecoming night and by that time he’d already met Peter the Intern. Vision had been gone by that point and T’Challa was too busy ruling a kingdom to chat and Natasha… well, she was out of the picture. And they also didn’t know that Peter was his son.

Tony didn’t want them to know. In that moment, right here in the conference room, he decided he wouldn’t tell them, not ever if it were up to him. He couldn’t really reason why other than _I don’t want to, _but it was the same burning, parental drive in him that made him storm out of a meeting with the UN, abandon a fight, and agree to talk to the three people in front of him.

With new confidence, Tony pulled back his shoulders. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“He must be pretty important to you if you left an Accords meeting.”

Tony gave the spy a smile that wasn’t really a smile, but more a snarl with upturned corners of his mouth. “Why am I not surprised that you know what my agenda for the day was?” She didn’t answer, just stared back at him with a blank expression. Out of nowhere, Tony was fully reminded of the way she’d betrayed him. “Just out of curiosity, because we’re apparently not talking about important things anyway, when did you decide to switch sides? Was it a spur of the moment thing? Or did you plan to betray me right from the start?” That was something he’d wondered about ever since it happened. Sure, they always had butted heads in some way or the other, but Tony had thought they were more or less on the same page with the Accords. Did he say or do something that made her change her mind?

The spy stared back, not backing down from his silent challenge, but Steve stepped in the way, breaking their stare-down. “We’re not here to fight,” he said placatory.

Tony wanted to argue. However, he didn’t have time for that, not as long as Peter wasn’t in the clear. He sniffed and averted his eyes, willing his hot-blooded rage to calm down. “Where is that bastard, then?”

“His name is Russell Barrett.”

“I didn’t ask for his name, I asked where you’re hiding him.” Not one of them made any indication answer his question. A horrible, horrible feeling bloomed inside his chest. “You did catch him, didn’t you?”

“He got away,” Sam answered in an almost passive voice.

A ringing started in Tony’s ears. A shark-like smile spread across his face. “I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What did you say?” The genius almost winced. He clearly remembered the first time Peter had dropped that reference. Tony hadn’t understood it, but to his surprise Pepper did, and before he knew it, they were sitting on the big couch, all huddled together, and watching Legally Blonde, as well as the musical version because _Miss Potts, did you see the musical? No? Oh, we _have_ to_! The soundtrack had been stuck inside Tony’s head for days, annoying the hell out of him, but the joyful faces of two of his favorite people ever were worth it.

“We didn’t catch Barrett,” Steve repeated.

Tony lost his shit.

“You _what_?” he actually screamed, because he couldn’t believe it. “How? How the fuck could you let him get away? There were _three_ of you and one of him!”

“You kinda caused a commotion as you left,” Nat said, “and the police were almost there. We had to leave.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? Is that what you’re saying? Am I the reason that you’re running from the law and he got away?”

“Barrett is not the smartest tool in the box, but he’s very good at disappearing from a scene,” Sam threw in.

“And you’re telling me that a master spy, a super soldier and someone with wings are not good enough to catch him?” Sam grimaced and Tony was drawing some satisfaction from it. They knew they fucked up. Good. He wasn’t going to let them forget.

“We’ve been after him for a while,” Steve continued, obviously trying to keep the tension as low as possible, but he was failing, “and we have a pretty good idea about what he’s going to do next. But we can’t move freely here and –“

“And that’s why you’re here. Because you need me to hide your asses from every camera and every pair of eyes that’s on the lookout for you.” The three didn’t say anything, but they didn’t need to. Tony scoffed. He couldn’t believe it. “You know what? No. Right now, I have bigger problems than hiding you from the law.”

“Tony, we know you want to catch Barrett. We’ve got better chances at getting him when we work together.”

Somehow, those words hurt more than suddenly seeing his former friends in front of him. They almost hurt as much as seeing his son lying unconscious in his friend’s arms. How dared Rogers preach about working together when he was the one that split them up? Tony had done everything he could to keep them together and the soldier had said no to everything, not moving an inch or willing to make any compromises. In that moment, Tony seriously asked himself why he was still lobbying for the Rogues to be pardoned.

“And whose fault is it that we’re not a team anymore?” he asked in a cold voice. Before any of them could answer, he shook his head and straightened his suit jacket. “You’ve got exactly one minute to leave the ground or FRIDAY will call the police and Ross, and that’s only because you gave me that bastard’s name. The next time you try to stop by, it won’t be so pleasant.”

He turned around, already opening the door and wondering why the hell he stopped working on a solution for Peter’s problem for this. “Tony –“ Nat began behind him, but he didn’t listen.

“The clock’s ticking. Tick tock.” With that, he walked out of the conference room and slammed the door behind him. His heart was racing and his arm was hurting and he quickly loosened the tie around his neck as he walked back to the elevator. He was feeling kind of claustrophobic right then, but that may as well just be his nerves.

Steve, Sam, and Natasha were here. They let Barrett escape. They wanted his help, even though they all left him. His son was still under the influence of some unknown, alien energy. And all that in a day’s work. How could his day get any worse?

As if the universe read his mind, his watched beeped, receiving a short mail from Helen with her first thought and a preliminary prognosis. Quickly, Tony pulled it up on the miniature holo-screen and read the few lines. “Fuck.”

His day just got worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To try to be more positive and confident about my writing, I decided to highlight my favourite lines of each chapter. For this one, there's actually a tie between 
> 
> Shit, tell her I will personally search the entire galaxy and nine realms for Thor and make him take her on a date.
> 
> and
> 
> He wanted to scream and rage and let everybody know that you do not fucking touch his kid or else. 
> 
> Also, while writing this chapter, I thought a lot about Nat and her behaviour in Civil War. Do you think she planned to switch side right from the start, like strategically siding with Tony to get some information from the "enemy"? Or was it an impulsive decision? Because I just can't decide.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! 
> 
> As always, thank you so, so much for all of your comments! I really appreciate them and they motivate me so much to keep writing. 
> 
> Again, a big thank you to my beta-reader [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Peter’s consciousness was slowly coming back to him, lazily and slow-moving, his body feeling kind of heavy, which was very rare nowadays. Normally a loud noise, a certain smell, or the sun shining through his blinds would wake him up all at once, and he’d always feel like he could run a marathon or lift a car – at least after he had a cold shower.

This felt like he was underwater. Everything was kind of muddled, not as sharp and loud as it used to be. There was some distant beeping and he smelled a faint hint of disinfectant, something he always associated with the Medbay, but it wasn’t that strong. Slowly, taking a lot more effort than he liked, he stretched his hand out, feeling the bed sheet. Over time, he got pretty good at distinguishing the bed sheets from one another, always knowing which bed he lay in, even though Tony never believed him. The bed sheets were smooth and soft and…

Peter scrunched his face. He couldn’t feel anything else. Which was weird. Maybe he was still too out of it. Again, this time with more intent, he moved his hand across sheet. It was smooth, it was soft – and that was it. He couldn’t feel the different bumps of the materials. He couldn’t say if it was just cotton or cotton and something else or only something else or something different entirely. All he could tell was that the sheets were smooth and soft.

Something was wrong. A bad feeling was rising up inside his stomach, all his way up to his chest, until his heart beat inside his mouth, making him kind of nauseous, and he was almost too afraid to open his eyes. Because if he didn’t open them, he could still pretend that this was all a bad dream. A very, very bad dream.

But Peter was brave. He opened his eyes.

Everything was blurry. The kind of blurry he knew too well. Instead of seeing the smallest details, like dust particles flying through the air, everything was sketchy shapes with no sharp corners. But Peter could interpret the shapes good enough to figure out where he was. The Medbay. Which he hadn’t expected because his nose told him he was _near_ the Medbay, not _in_ the Medbay. The smell should’ve been much stronger.

Panic rose inside him and he hoped, _prayed_, that this was a nightmare. He zeroed in on the machines, listening to them. He used to hear their inner workings, used to hear the liquids flowing in them – now he was only hearing the occasional, soft beeping noise. An IV stuck in his arm and some electrodes were stuck on his chest, the wires peeking out from underneath the hospital-esque gown he was wearing.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

Peter felt like throwing up. Breathing heavily, he sat up because maybe everything would get back to normal when he wasn’t laying down anymore. It didn’t change. Something pressed down on his chest, an invisible force that kept him from breathing properly. Distantly, he realized that one of the beeping noises was picking up speed. “F-FRIDAY?” he choked out. “I-I don’t… what’s happening? Something is wrong.”

A part of him knew what was wrong, knew what was causing this, because everything was so eerily familiar. But he couldn’t accept it. It couldn’t be happening. He didn’t know what to do if this really was happening.

“_Please remain calm, Mr. Parker_,” the AI answered in her usual calming voice. Maybe it was Peter’s panic overwriting his brain and making him paranoid, but he thought even she sounded different. Not what he was used to. “_Boss is already on his way to you_.”

Peter wanted to be relieved, because Tony would fix this. Whatever this was, he would make it right again. Because he was the best at fixing things. He should just sit in his bed, try to breathe normally and calm down, and wait for his father.

He couldn’t. He had to test his theory.

Slowly, he laid his shaking hand on top of the blanket, sweaty palm down. For a second, it just laid there, and breathing got even harder. Back when Peter first got his powers, the first thing he needed to control was his stickiness. The first morning, when his hands had literally stuck to everything he touched, had been the most difficult. Eventually, he got the hang of it and figured out that he needed to concentrate to not stick to things and over time, it got as easy as breathing.

However, breathing wasn’t easy anymore. Peter swallowed. His heart raced inside his chest, making him even more nauseous. Everything was still blurry and he could already feel a way too familiar headache forming. There was a single thought in his head, over and over again. _Stick to the blanket. Stick to the blanket. _

Hesitant, he lifted his hand. The blanket did not stick to it.

It was worse than a punch in the stomach. Worse than getting shot. Worse than slamming into a building while swinging at full speed. Worse than having a building collapse on him.

Because everything was like it used to be before the spider bite. The blurry vision. The headache that he always got whenever he didn’t wear his glasses. The pressure on his chest whenever his asthma was about to kick in. The certain kind of heaviness in his bones that he completely forgot about.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he choked on a sob before he could even try to stop it. Defeated, Peter slumped back into his pillow. It was gone. Everything was gone. He was… he was just Peter. Not Spider-Man. Not Spidey, not Underoos, not even Spider-Boy. Just Peter.

“_Mr. Parker, please try to breathe normally_,” FRIDAY instructed. “_We did not yet acquire your proper asthma medication and an attack can have severe consequences right now_.” He wanted to point out that the Medbay was probably better equipped than most of the hospitals in New York, but he couldn’t find any strength to fight in him. It was gone, just like his powers.

The door opened before Peter even remembered his first breathing technique to calm down and a man burst through it. At least, he thought it was a man – but besides some colored spots, he couldn’t really see any details. However, that person wasn’t wearing a white lab coat, so it was pretty unlike that the person was a doctor. In three long strides, they were at his bedside and now Peter could recognize enough details to know who it was.

“Just breath, Pete, okay?” Tony said, a little out of breath. “C’mon, we’ve done this a thousand times. It’s always fun, remember? Just breath, in and out.”

Peter wasn’t having a panic attack, even though it must look like one. But instead of panic blocking his airways and taking over every part of his body, it was a gut-wrenching feeling of helplessness. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and Tony… Peter didn’t know if he looked relieved. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t recognize anything. “I-I d-don’t have… Tony, they’re gone and I-“

Tony shook his head, putting a hand on his cheek, maybe trying to get him to focus on something else. Peter felt the tears coming back, because his hand didn’t feel like it used to. It was still rough and calloused, but he couldn’t feel the details. Couldn’t feel the tiny scars that he imagined his father got from paper cuts or sharp metal edges or chipped cups or whatever over the years. It didn’t feel familiar. “I know, okay? I know, but right now you need to tell me if you’re in pain or feeling any numbness. Can you do that for me?”

Peter couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t even _see_ and nothing about this room was familiar. Not even Tony. Nothing felt or looked or smelled or listened like it used to. He’d never been here before the bite, hadn’t met Tony before the bite. All he knew were the super-sharp, detailed versions of them, not… this, whatever this was. Another sob escaped his lips, because suddenly he felt so alone.

“Pete?” The pressure on his cheek increased, but he couldn’t look up. He wouldn’t be able to see in his father’s eyes, anyway, so he just stared at his chest. “Peter? Can you hear me? Buddy, I really need you to answer me.” Somehow, Peter managed to nod. “Are you in pain? Do you feel numbness somewhere? Can you move your toes and your fingers?”

Despite his average hearing, the boy did pick up Tony’s panic in his voice and that spurred him on to actually think about his questions. Disregarding the heartbreaking fear, disbelief, and disappointment that was tightening around his chest and filling his veins with a cold liquid, he wasn’t in pain. Well, his back was a little sore, but as far as he could remember, he did crash into a wall, so maybe that was normal. He didn’t feel numb and he quickly wiggled his toes and fingers.

“No pain or numbness, and I can move everything,” he answered in a small voice.

“Thank _God_,” Tony breathed and then he almost crushed Peter in a bone-crushing hug. One hand was pressing his head firmly against Tony’s shoulder, the other one was around his back in an ironlike grip. Automatically, Peter reached out to put his arms around the man, but it felt weird. Instead of the usual smell of motor oil, metal and aftershave that was now tied to safety and comfort, he only smelled the expensive cologne. He couldn’t hear Tony’s heartbeat, the steady drumming that always grounded him.

If his vision hadn’t already been this blurry, it would be now, thanks to all the tears that were coming back. Tony’s grip on him was tighter than ever, but Peter felt like he was crumbling and slipping away.

“M-My powers are gone,” he whispered into Tony’s shoulder. Tony held him even tighter. “I c-can’t… I can’t even _see_.”

“Shit, right,” the billionaire cursed and let go of him to pull something out of his pocket. “I had Happy pick them up from your apartment.” A second later, that something was put on his face and the vague shapes turned into objects. He wasn’t relieved. No, quite the opposite. It felt like the final nail in his coffin. His old glasses still worked perfectly. “Better?”

Peter looked up. For the first time since Tony barged into the room, he could really see him. The man looked tired, panicky, and a bit on the pale side. The wrinkles on his face were more prominent. Concern was written all over his face. A part of Peter wanted to reassure him that he was fine – but he wasn’t. And he couldn’t even pretend that he was anywhere near fine. “Why are they gone? Are they coming back?”

Tony grimaced, clearly not wanting to talk about it, but there was no way in hell that Peter was dropping this. It was too big, too important. “What do you remember?” he asked eventually.

“I was hit by that gun. After that everything is… weird.” He briefly thought about telling him that Rogers and his friends were there, but in that moment, it wasn’t really important. Besides, Tony had picked up him, hadn’t he? He must’ve seen them. Or did they run before he got there? Peter couldn’t recall.

“That gun was made with scraps from Chitauri technology. I’m working on figuring it out, FRIDAY is running simulations as we speak.” Peter already suspected that. “Helen is on her way. She was in Seattle, but she should be here in a few hours. The medical team already ran some tests on you and sent her the results, and they’re doing everything they can to find a cure.”

Tony wasn’t answering his question, he was explaining the situation to him. Peter recognized it as one of his deflecting techniques. “Why are my powers gone?”

The look on Tony’s face grew pained. He sniffed once, but remained eye contact. Peter felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. “The… energy or plasma or whatever it was that hit you got inside your body. Helen says it’s similar to a virus, attacking its host, going for the weakest links first and eliminating them.”

“B-But my spider DNA gives me all my powers. It’s not weak.”

“It’s only 2% of you. And we don’t know if it’s still stronger for Chitauri standards.” Peter wanted to say something, to argue that this couldn’t be true, but Tony wasn’t finished. Firmly, he grabbed his hands, squeezed them to tight, and took a deep breath. “What we don’t know is… we don’t know if your healing factor took care of the virus before it could spread further or if your healing also got destroyed in the process. We can’t track the energy inside your body. It doesn’t show up in any scans, so we don’t know if it’s attacking the rest of your body, too, or if it has the same effect.”

“What does that mean?” Peter was smart. He went to a school that focuses on science. He liked biology. A part of him knew what all of that meant, but he asked anyway. Because what if he was wrong? If he overlooked something?

For a second, Tony’s eyes got wet and suddenly, Peter felt absolutely hopeless. He didn’t have his powers anymore and his father, Tony Stark, _Iron Man_, looked so crestfallen. “You might be dying.”

This should feel worse than him realizing he lost his powers. It was more serious. What was losing perfect vision and stickiness compared to losing his life? And it did feel terrible, it was scary – but not unexpected. He already lost his powers, so wasn’t the next, logical step that he was about to lose his life, too?

Before Peter could even figure out what was going on in his head, Tony gripped his shoulders hard, making sure that he was looking into his eyes. “But I’m not going to let that happen, you hear me? I’ll fix it. You’re not going to die, and everything will be just fine.” He sounded so sure, so utterly convinced – and yet Peter couldn’t find it in himself to answer. “They’re still running tests, all your vitals and organs are being monitored, and the second something weird comes up, they’re on it. Helen is already working on some medicine for you. And FRIDAY is running the scans, remember? I also sent out a signal for Bruce to get his ass back to earth and if he’s anywhere in this galaxy, he’ll hear it. It’s going to be fine, Peter, you’re not going to die.”

“B-But what about my powers?” he asked in a small voice.

Tony looked pained. The kind of pained you get when someone hasn’t got their priorities straight, but you can’t tell them. Peter knew that they were all doing their best so that he wouldn’t die, and he really appreciated it, but was anyone thinking about his powers? He just– he couldn’t lose them. He couldn’t go back to being Penis Parker, the boy with the thick glasses and the inhaler in his backpack, who couldn’t run two laps around the football field without collapsing. Not after he’d experienced what it was like to be like this. To be _someone_.

“Peter,” the billionaire said, and it was that tone of voice parents always have when they try to be patient with their kids and explain why they can’t do something. Peter felt a stab in his chest, because Tony didn’t understand. He’d never met Peter before the bite, he only met the cool version of Peter. And what if the uncool version of Peter wasn’t good enough to be around an icon like Tony anymore? Would he realize that the normal, non-spider-bite Peter wasn’t worth his time?

“Where’s May?” Peter asked before Tony continue, and he couldn’t help but feel like a child asking for his mother. He didn’t care, though. May had known him since he was born. She had known him before his bite. She had loved him then and she would love him now. She would understand. 

He wasn’t looking at Tony anymore and therefore didn’t see the hurt look that crossed over his face. Tony cleared his throat and sniffed. “She’ll be here as soon as she can, but she’s assisting in a surgery right now. Happy’s already at the hospital, ready to drive her here the second she’s out of there. He’s got my permission to disobey every traffic law there is to get here faster.”

An uneasy tension filled the room. Peter couldn’t bring himself to look up again. He felt Tony’s eyes on him, almost begging him to look at him, to let him in. And a part of him wanted to do that, and that part also knew that all his fears were irrational, and it was probably just anxiety talking– but what if his anxiety was right? He was terrified of the simple thought that their relationship would change because he wasn’t Spider-Man anymore.

“Everything is going to be okay, I promise,” Tony said softly, almost a whisper, and ruffled his hair once. “Everything will be back to normal.” Peter tried to smile, but he was pretty sure he was failing at it. Because _this_ was normal. This was the before. And he didn’t want it.

There was a knock on the door and for a split second, Peter felt even more discouraged. When was the last time he’d actually needed a knock to know that someone was on the other side of the door? He had been awake for less than an hour and was already hating every single second of it. The door cracked open, just far enough for someone to pop his head in. It was Rhodey, his eyes darting from Peter to Tony and back, before giving them a small smile. “Hey, are you up for visitors? Because there was someone outside who threatened to hack into FRIDAY if he can’t come inside. So, I let him in.”

“Rhodey, what –“ Tony didn’t get a chance to finish. The colonel opened the door further and in walked Ned, eyes impossibly wide and a bit on the pale side. Peter could basically hear the _Oh my god, that’s War Machine_ running through his head.

Peter felt like crying again. “Ned.”

His friend’s eyes darted to him and he was by his side so fast, Coach Wilson should give him extra credit. “Peter! You still look like a normal person! I thought you would have like, scales or tentacles or antennae or something. Are you okay? Do you have alien superpowers now? Is there an alien growing in you, like in that one old movie? Oh, can we keep the alien if it doesn’t rip you apart or something? Because just think about how funny it would be if we name it Nessie and put it in Central Park and say it came from Scotland?” Ned didn’t even stop to take a breath. “Dude, it’s crazy at school! Like, an entire SWAT team came but everyone was already gone and there were like, fifty ambulances, but nobody else was hurt, so that’s pretty good, I guess, and there were so many reporters! And a helicopter! And everyone is talking about you, how _Iron Man_ came and got you. Flash didn’t even make any stupid comment and everyone was like _I guess he really has an internship at SI _and I think MJ cried, but I’m not sure, because it’s MJ, but she was really weird, like silent and not as snappy as usual and–“

“I’m not Spider-Man anymore,” Peter finally interrupted him. Ned blinked twice and Peter pointed to his glasses. “My powers are gone.” Ned didn’t look surprised or shocked. He wasn’t asking a million questions in two seconds. No, instead, he pulled something out of his backpack and handed it to Peter. It was his old inhaler. For a heartbeat, Peter could just stare at Ned. “But… how did you know?”

“I’ve seen so many of your asthma attacks, dude, it’s not even funny,” Ned answered in a serious voice. “When that gun hit you, it looked like back then. Like one of your attacks. And I think you couldn’t see properly, because you didn’t really focus on anything.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal that he paid so much attention to all the details.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Tony and Rhodey whisper to each other. He couldn’t hear them. Another stab in his heart. They never whispered when he was even anywhere near the room they were in, knowing that he would hear it anyway. Trying to distract himself, he looked back to Ned. “I’m just Peter. Again.”

“But they’ll come back. Won’t they?” Peter didn’t answer. He also didn’t know what kind of face he was making, but Ned turned to Tony, who had, apparently, followed their conversation. “It’ll all be fine, right?”

“I’m fixing it,” Tony answered, looking confident and pained at the same time, “but his powers are not the priority right now.”

“What do you mean? What’s the priority?” Tony didn’t answer, averting his eyes to the ground. Peter’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. Please, _please_ let this be a really terrible, really realistic nightmare. “Peter?”

He couldn’t keep this from Ned. Ned was his best friend since before kindergarten. Ned, who saw a kid with big, nerdy glasses who couldn’t breathe properly and was into science and still decided to be his best friend. Peter took a deep breath and said: “I might die.”

Ned was speechless, which did not happen often. He looked from Peter to the adults and back to Peter. The next thing Peter knew, he was in a bear hug. He didn’t even try to stop the tears.

* * *

The only reason Tony wasn’t losing his shit right now was because he couldn’t do that in front of Peter. He’d had two hours to prepare for the conversation he had with his son. Twenty minutes were spent almost destroying his lab in a fit of rage he had after he’d read Helen’s message. The only thing he hadn’t touched was Peter’s work bench. He’d called Happy and Rhodey, tried to get a hold of May, sent a message to Pepper, and then got back to work. He had to figure out what that gun did exactly. Failure wasn’t an option anymore. Because he just couldn’t lose Peter. He had barely known him for a year – that wasn’t enough time.

Watching his son and his best friend hold on to each other like their lives depended on it was heartbreaking. And he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew that if he stayed even a second longer, he would start to crumble, too. So, he left. He wasn’t even sure if either of the boys would notice that he wasn’t there anymore, but someone else did.

“Tones, wait,” Rhodey said, hurrying after him.

Tony only half-heard him. Air wasn’t flowing in his lungs, his heartbeat was way too fast, his arm hurt like hell, and the walls seemed to be closing in. His son might be experiencing his last hours and he abandoned him, because he couldn’t deal with it. Who said he would be a good father? Whoever it was deserved to be punched in the face. Tony deserved to be punched in the face. What kind of person leaves a kid in a situation like this?

“You’ve got to breathe, Tony.” That was Rhodey, who was suddenly next to him. How did he get there? His hand was on his shoulder, pressing him against the wall to steady him. Which was pretty smart thinking, because his legs started to shake. Wasn’t it kind of ironic that Tony told Peter to breathe only a bit earlier and now he was the one who needed help to get through a panic attack? “Hey, you’re helping no one if you collapse right now, okay? Just take it easy.”

“He can die,” Tony breathed and the words tasted worse than vomit on his tongue. “Rhodey, maybe he’ll die.”

“You’re not going to let that happen.” He wondered how Rhodey could sound so sure of it. Did he not see the mess he was? That he was absolutely useless?

“But –“

His friend shook his head. “No buts. I know you, Tony. You’re the guy that built a super suit in a cave after he had open-heart surgery. If there’s one person who will find a way out of this situation, it’s you.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed. “I can’t figure this weapon out and Helen does her best but… I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You can start by being there for Peter.” It felt like a knife was rammed into his chest. He thought of the way Peter didn’t properly look at him, how he’d asked for May instead of asking him for comfort. That one had hurt more than the billionaire liked to admit.

“He doesn’t want me there, Rhodey. He won’t even look me in the eyes. And – God, he cares more about his powers than his _life_.” He buried his face in his hands, thinking of every breathing technique he’d ever heard of. His heart wouldn’t calm down. His mind wouldn’t stop racing. A terrifying imagine of a gravestone kept haunting him. “This might be his last few days and he’s worried that he can’t catch a car anymore.”

“Maybe he’s still processing,” his friend tried to reason. “Maybe it’s easier for him to focus on his loss of powers instead of his death.”

The genius couldn’t focus. There were too many terrible things running through his head. “I can’t lose him. I just found him.”

“You won’t lose him. It will be okay.” Tony nodded – not because he was convinced, but because he knew Rhodey wouldn’t leave until he did. The soldier patted his shoulder. “Take a breather, alright? You’re not helping if you go back in there and have another panic attack. Go for a walk or go to your lab or try to get some sleep. Calm down. Peter needs you to be strong. I’ll go back and keep an eye on them.”

He pushed himself off the wall, hating that he was feeling a wave of relief coming over him, before he stopped. There was something else he needed to say, even though it wasn’t his priority right now. “Did you hear who was there?”

Rhodey’s face turned into a mask made of stone and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard rumors. Are they true? Were they there?”

“Yes. Rogers, Romanoff, and Wilson.” Rhodey’s face darkened. “They stopped by on their way to… wherever it is they’re hiding. Wanted to have a little chat.”

“And what did you chat about?”

Tony shrugged. To be honest, he couldn’t even remember the meeting that well. Everything seemed blurry and kind of unimportant. “Nothing, really. They gave me the name of that bastard and I told them to fuck off.” He’d also ordered FRIDAY to dig up all the dirt she could on Russell Barrett and look for him. The second his face appeared on any surveillance camera, Tony would know it. 

Rhodey snorted, but it felt cold. “You didn’t call the police?”

“Well, I wanted to, but then I got Helen’s email and was a bit distracted.” And they had left the building within a minute.

“Don’t worry about them. There are more important things now.” Tony nodded, this time because he agreed with his friend. Worrying about some disgraced superheroes was the last of his troubles. “Go. Gather your thoughts, pull yourself together. And don’t beat yourself up too much about it. This isn’t your fault.”

That was easier said than done.

A few hours later, Tony was back in front of Peter’s room at the Medbay. He’d just gotten the alert from Happy that Helen’s jet had landed and that they would be there soon. Tony wanted to be there when she conducts the tests and explains everything.

About half an hour after Tony had left the room, May had arrived. Another hour later, Ned had to leave and Rhodey had taken the opportunity and left as well. Peter hadn’t asked for Tony, and the billionaire didn’t know how to feel about that. Yes, he had left on his own, not even saying a word. And Peter was way too polite to ask for his company when he thought he would interrupt something. Still, it left a bitter taste in Tony’s mouth and it didn’t help that he was perfectly aware that it was pretty much his own fault.

Taking a deep breath to convince himself that he could do this, he gently knocked on the door before opening it, careful to not drop the tray with the sandwiches and water bottles he had with him. He’d asked FRIDAY beforehand what the situation was, so he wasn’t surprised to see May laying next to Peter, who was asleep, his head on her shoulder and his arm around her midriff, holding on tight. The woman ran a hand through his curls – it was a habit Tony and May shared – and she smiled at Tony as he stepped next to the bed, putting the tray on the table next to them. Her eyes were red.

“I brought you a snack,” he whispered. It was still weird to talk in Peter’s presence and know that he couldn’t hear him.

“Thank you,” she whispered back.

A bit hesitant, Tony sat down on the chair closest to the bed, cracking his knuckles. “How is he?”

“Exhausted.” She didn’t elaborate and he knew why. Peter was the complete opposite of okay. Neither of them could blame him, especially not as long as they didn’t know what was going to happen.

“I’m so sorry, May,” he confessed and felt the pressure building up on his chest.

To his surprise, she shook her head. “It’s not your fault, you know that, right?”

“I should’ve been there.”

“You didn’t know it would happen.”

“No–“

“Then stop this. I swear, you both have the same guilt complex. Sometimes bad things just… happen. And that’s not your fault. You got him out of there, gave him the medical attention he needs, and you’re working on that gun. You’re doing everything you can.” She smiled at him again. “Thank you for looking after my boy. After _our_ boy.”

Another stab in his chest. Was this amount of stabby-feelings normal? Or should he go see a doctor? “I left him here. Instead of helping him through this, I left him.”

May didn’t answer immediately, and a smothering silence was stretching between them. Tony wondered if she wanted to yell at him again and if the only thing stopping her was the sleeping teenager. But she didn’t scream. “Do you want to know the real reason why I always reject your offers to work here?” A bit bewildered about the sudden change of topic, Tony could only nod. “Because I know I wouldn’t be able to work properly if it was Peter laying on the surgery table. I wouldn’t be able to keep a clear head. If I made a mistake because I couldn’t concentrate… I wouldn’t forgive myself. Not when Peter’s life was on the line. Or any of yours, for that matter.”

Tony never thought about it like that, to be honest. He always thought May didn’t want to work for him – even though he provided better payment, shifts, insurance, and bonuses – because she still held a grudge against him. But this, he could understand.

“I don’t blame you for needing your space to process what happened. I know how much you care for him, and what you would do for him. So, this time, I’ll let it slide.” He really appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, but he still wasn’t feeling any better. He felt like he failed, not just because he had left the room. He’d failed to protect Peter and now… now nobody knew what was going to happen.

“I’ll make this right, May, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line(s) of the chapter: “Hey, are you up for visitors? Because there was someone outside who threatened to hack into FRIDAY if he can’t come inside. So, I let him in.”
> 
> And now I will go hide in a corner and think about what I did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> First of all, thank you so, so much for all of your support! I feel a bit bad for the eniter roller coaster of emotions - and it's not getting better. Sorry. 
> 
> This chapter as been especially difficult and emotional for me to write because almost all of Peter's thoughts and his behaviour is based on my own. It was the first time I ever tried to explain in detail what was going through my head during the hardest time of my life (hopefully ever, but probably until now). I literally had to binge-watch Queer Eye while writing this, so their positivity could counteract all my emotions. 
> 
> And let's not forget [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) who once again beta-read this chapter for me. Thank you! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Peter wasn’t dying. He should be happy.

May had woken him up when Dr. Cho arrived. Tony had been there, too, sitting in a corner with a StarkPad, giving him a once over before going back to being uncharacteristically quiet and occasionally tapping on the device before him. Helen had examined him quickly and then explained the situation and her theories. Based on how fast his powers had disappeared, she theorized that, should the alien energy attack the rest of his body, they would see a change in his vitals very fast. For the next few hours, doctors had checked in with him every few minutes. He hadn’t been allowed to sleep during that time because they were constantly asking how he was doing and if he was feeling weird.

Everyone had kept him company. May hadn’t left his side, staying in the bed with an air of confidence that Peter admired. Tony had stayed most of the time, leaving now and again to check on something in his lab, but he didn’t talk a lot. Instead, he was very focused on the tablet in his hand. Happy had stopped by with a sandwich from Delmar’s that was squished down really flat, and he stayed until Downton Abbey was over which coincidently – or maybe not – happened to run at that time. Ned had kept sending him texts about everything and nothing at all, spamming his Snapchat with silly pictures. Pepper had facetimed him, telling him everything about Barcelona, and promising to take him there one day, showing him the Sagrada Família and eating paella with him. He had to choke back a sob and just nodded while May had decided to tag along because why was only her nephew asked to go on vacation with her? They had all ignored the tears in her eyes.

Around two in the morning, Helen had decided that he was – most likely – not dying. May had cried, Tony had buried his face in his hands, not moving for quite a while, Helen had given him an encouraging smile – and Peter hadn’t felt anything. Well, that wasn’t completely true. He had been relieved because dying was still a terrifying and daunting thought. But he hadn’t been happy. Because his powers weren’t back. Helen’s theory was that his healing factor had destroyed the energy before it could attack his body any more, though it had been burned out in the process. They had made a little cut on his hand to see how fast the wound healed. A day earlier, the cut would’ve been healed after 15 minutes. But the cut had still been there after 15 minutes and it had still been there a few hours later when Helen had allowed him to go home. She’d given him some medicine that would hopefully counteract any Chitauri energy that still might be left in his body, and had given May clear instructions what to look out for. His watch would still monitor his vitals and apparently Tony had upgraded it to check more than just his heart rate, so should something happen, the Medbay would be alerted immediately.

Before they left, Tony had engulfed him in a hug that almost squeezed the air out of his lungs. He’d promised him that everything would be alright and that he would fix it. Peter had simply nodded. He wanted to believe him _so_ badly. But he didn’t know this Tony, at least not like the other one. He was more difficult to read now that he couldn’t pick up all the small details.

The rest of the day had been a blur to Peter. Happy had driven them home, stopping by their favorite Greek restaurant to get some take-out. At home, Peter had barely touched his food. He hadn’t really been hungry at all, and it hadn’t tasted like he remembered it – instead of flavorful, it had been kind of stale. Yes, he knew that he was still used to his sharp senses, but it seemed impossible to remind himself of that. The sun was less bright, the birds less cheerful, every surface felt a bit dull, his favorite tea May made for him didn’t smell as good as it used to, and everything was so quiet.

When he finally went to bed, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep, instead just laying there, staring at the slatted frame of the top bunk and listening. There were very quiet, distant sirens. A dog barked, but he couldn’t tell where it was. He couldn’t hear May’s calming breathing or her steady heartbeat. All he could hear was his thundering heart in his chest and the sobs he choked back. Peter felt completely isolated. He felt alone. He felt misunderstood, because how could you explain this? How could anyone understand what this was like? To finally experience life in its most beautiful form and then have it taken away?

At the same time, Peter was so angry at himself. He shouldn’t feel like this, not when the alternative was that he would be dead. He was lucky that he was alive, how could he complain? Besides, there are so many people out there who have fates that are so much worse than his and they bounce back and find the joy in life again. He was selfish for feeling like this, for missing the things he would never have gotten if he hadn’t wandered off on his own at OsCorp. Maybe this was payback for it? It felt like it.

When his alarm went off in the morning, Peter had been awake for almost an hour. Not that he’d really gotten any restful sleep at all. More like drifting in and out of consciousness. He’d been so relieved when he woke up early, because he didn’t have to face the day just yet, but he’d dreaded every minute that passed. He was supposed to go to school today. Just the thought of going back with his glasses and his inhaler in his backpack was unbearable. Couldn’t he simply stay in bed? Everything else seemed like an impossible task, like an unbreachable wall.

So, when his alarm went off, he simply switched it off. Instantly, he felt guilty about it, but an overwhelming feeling of inability to do anything but lay in bed quickly stifled his guilt. Maybe no one would even notice that he wasn’t there. Nobody really noticed Peter Parker, anyway. Besides, if he skipped his usual shower, he could lay here for another 15 minutes. Peter’s pretty sure that he read somewhere that you shouldn’t shower every day, so it’s just the healthier option. And if he skipped breakfast, too, that were another 20 minutes. His metabolism was normal again, so he didn’t really need to eat anything anyway. The take-out from the night before still sat heavy in his stomach. He had nothing to worry about it.

About half an hour later, May came into his room. Peter laid on his side, his back to the door, and pretended to be asleep. Maybe she would have mercy on him and just let him be. She didn’t. Instead, she sat next to him and gently brushed his hair back, knowing that he was not asleep. “Peter, honey, you need to get up.”

“Just five more minutes, please.” Because five more minutes in bed meant five minutes less out there in the dull and wasted version of the world with so many people that would see his glasses and his inhaler and would rightly assume he was useless. What else would people think of him when they saw him?

May didn’t answer immediately, taking a good look at him. Peter couldn’t keep the eye contact. His aunt always said how she could read every single thought he had through in eyes. Normally, he just laughed about it, but he didn’t want her to know what he was thinking right now. Surely, she would be disappointed, because he wasn’t dying. He should be happy. May had lost so many people – her husband, her brother-in-law, his wife who had been one of her best friends. She would be so disappointed that he was behaving like such a brat. How could he complain about poor vision and worse hearing if his heart was still beating? Peter was fully aware that he was being ungrateful and spoiled, and it made everything so much worse. He should be happy. Why wasn’t he happy?

“Are you in pain?” she asked, rubbing his back. Peter was hurting, but it wasn’t physical pain. He shook his head. “Yesterday, you said you wanted to go to school.” He did say that, but at that point they’d been discussing if he should stay at the Tower for a few more days. All he’d wanted to do was go home, lay in his bed, and not get up again. Because he didn’t know how to explain all this and still seem like a sane person, Peter shrugged. May kept looking at him, trying to figure out what was bothering him. His palms got sweaty and his heart thundered in his chest. What if she figured out what was going on? “You don’t have to go, if you don’t feel up for it.” Before he could even begin to feel relieved, she kept talking and shattered all his hopes. “But I don’t want you to be alone, and I really have to go to work today, sweetie. I can call Tony, maybe Happy can pick you up and drive you to the Tower.”

“No.” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Facing Tony was worse than going to school. Because at school everyone knew he was a loser, this version of him was nothing new for them. But Tony only knew Spider-Man-Peter, the better Peter. The Peter that was gone. Peter simply couldn’t stomach seeing his father finally realize that his son wasn’t good enough for him. Not right now. “I’ll just go, it’s fine.”

“Peter-“

“Really, May, it was stupid, anyway. I’ll go to school.” He sat up and put on his glasses, hoping it would convince her. She didn’t look convinced and for a second, he thought she would still call Happy.

Then, she sighed. “Alright. But you need to eat something before you go. And brush your teeth and hair.”

“I’m not hungry. Actually, I’m still pretty stuffed from yesterday. My metabolism isn’t as fast anymore, y’know?”

“You still need some food. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“But it’s already so late. I can get something on my way to school.”

May still didn’t look completely convinced, but she nodded eventually. “If that’s what you want. But remember to take the side entrance, okay?” That was another reason why Peter would prefer to stay in bed. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that Iron Man had flown to a High School in Queens and left again shortly after, carrying somebody. The attack on the school had been all over the news, especially because of the posts about the Rogue Avengers being there. Everyone talked about it: either about the event itself, the Rogues, or why Iron Man didn’t engage in the fight and who was the student that was the superhero’s priority. Reporters swarmed the school and Tony – well, Pepper really, because the genius was still working on the gun – had already hired a security service to keep them from entering the school grounds, as well as paying for all of the repairs for the damages. The school hadn’t given up Peter’s identity yet, and Happy had told them that they wouldn’t dare it if they don’t want to deal with the best lawyers in the country.

But they also knew that it was impossible to control everything. This was nothing but damage control. All it took was one of his classmates to talk to the reporters in hope of quick fame, a halfway decent photograph of his face, or someone from his neighborhood recognizing him. So, he had to keep a low profile. It wasn’t like Peter wanted to draw attention to him anyway, but knowing how high the stakes were, he felt even more anxious about going outside. What if he messed up? What if they found out that he – this version of Peter – was Tony’s son? Wouldn’t they just love it? The loser child of one of the coolest people in the world? He could already see the headlines. _The absolute disappointment that is Tony Stark’s son_.

Peter felt nauseous. He was pretty sure his hands were shaking and he took a deep breath as soon as May was out of his room, trying to calm down. His watch started to vibrate, alerting him that his vitals were getting closer to the not-normal scale, and he quickly tapped it in a specific rhythm to stop the alert that would be transmitted to the Medbay. They had installed this feature after Tony had called him in the middle of his Physics exam, thinking something bad had happened while, in reality, Peter had just been nervous.

Telling himself that everything would be fine – maybe not exactly fine, but okay-ish – Peter got ready, choosing a monochrome sweater and jeans, brushing his hair and teeth, grabbing his backpack, making sure he had his inhaler, and telling himself that he should just man-up. He’d lived like this for fourteen years. He could do it again. May squeezed him extra tight before he left and for a second, Peter really thought he could do this. His aunt thought he would be alright, so why shouldn’t he be? He _wanted_ to be alright.

Outside, the world was still as dull as the day before. Nothing was as intense as it used to be, and Peter felt like he was in a bubble, not experiencing what everyone else was, not being part of their lives, excluded from everything. His head was bowed, simply looking at the ground and not at the people around him. Could they tell how he was feeling? Would they take one look at him and know everything? As soon as he reached the subway, he leaped for one of the seats in the back where close to no one was sitting. Out of habit and to seem like he was doing something, he pulled out his phone.

He had 38 unread messages. The last time he’d opened the app had been yesterday afternoon to let Ned know he was coming to school. Peter should probably check them – they could be important – and he didn’t even know who texted him. He’d disabled the push notifications when Flash had almost seen Tony’s message about Spider-Man. But if he opened the messages, they would see that he’d read them – what if he didn’t know what to answer them? What if he didn’t want to answer them? What if they would find out that something wasn’t fine simply by his answers? Like this, he could always pretend that he hadn’t read them. With a heavy heart and chewing on his lip, Peter locked the phone and slid it back into his pocket.

The way to his school was weird. Peter was either hyper aware of every little move he had to make, was already tired from just thinking about moving a single muscle, or he couldn’t remember moving at all, like he was simply a puppet on strings. Before he knew it, he was already at Midtown. There was a crowd gathered at the gates. Men with flashing cameras and three news station vans were parked there. Tall, buff security guards, all dressed in black with sunglasses and coms in their ears, kept the reporters at bay and helped the students come through. The reporters were yelling questions at the kids, hoping they would maybe get an answer, but all they did was stare back, kind of dumbfounded. Peter’s heart rate spiked and he ducked his head as he walked around the fence to the lesser known side entrance. It was guarded by other security men, who gave him a quick once over before opening the door for him. Peter wondered if they knew who he was and what had happened to him.

The second the teenager set a foot inside the school, he really wished he’d stayed in bed. He would even prefer going to the Tower instead of being here. Was it too late to ask Happy to pick him up and drive him somewhere where no one knew him? Everyone was staring at him. Peter didn’t need his enhanced senses to know that. He could literally feel their eyes on him and they weren’t too shy to point at him and whisper behind his back. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His ears didn’t pick up every single word they muttered, but everything blurred into white noise, completely unrecognizable for him.

Well, at least until he passed a group of seniors who didn’t lower their voices. “Why him, though? Like, what does Stark see in him? What makes him so special?” Of course, they were wondering about that. Nobody had believed him about the internship. Peter was pretty sure that even some of his teachers thought he’d made it up for attention. And suddenly, Iron Man flew into their cafeteria and picked up him, completely ignoring the fight that had erupted around them. Peter couldn’t blame them for asking. They didn’t know that the reason Tony had noticed him was Spider-Man and that he thought he could be the future of the Avengers.

Something sharp stabbed him right in his chest and he stopped in his tracks, his epiphany rendering him paralyzed. That was it, wasn’t it? Tony had mentored him to be the future of the Avengers. But that was gone now. All hopes of becoming an Avenger had been properly destroyed, set aflame and burned to ashes. Tony didn’t need him anymore. And, yes, okay, they were related, but… it was a secret. The only ones that would be affected by it would be the ones that knew about it. Besides, they’d only known about it for about three months. Barely anything had changed, at least nothing that couldn’t be reversed. Tony made it clear that he didn’t need Peter to take over SI one day. He and Pepper were getting married, surely they would have a child to carry on the Stark legacy. And there was this other kid Tony mentioned, Harley Keener, who was apparently really clever and into mechanics, too. Why would Tony keep Peter around when he didn’t need him anymore?

“Peter.” He almost jumped out of his skin, looking up so fast his neck protested and his heart was racing in his chest. But the panic inside him settled down a bit when he saw MJ standing in front of him. She was giving him a weird look, probably wondering what was going on. At once, he looked down again. MJ was so good at reading people, and Peter just couldn’t deal with one of her snarky comments right now. Not while he was having such a hard time keeping all the bad thoughts out of his head. “I didn’t think you would be back today.”

“Y-Yeah,” he answered lamely because he didn’t know what else to say. For a second, neither one of them said anything. Peter pulled his eyebrows together in confusion. MJ wasn’t really a chatty person, but when she decided to have a conversation, it was usually pretty smooth. This wasn’t smooth. Slowly, he glanced up. MJ had her arms crossed over her chest and stared at a point left from his head. If she didn’t want to talk to him, she could just leave, she did that often enough. But she was still here. Suddenly, he remembered what had happened before he got shot. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He could feel his face heat up. “I-I mean, like, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said and Peter sighed with relief. “But only because of you, so… like, I think I should thank you for doing something incredibly stupid and getting hurt. And being really out of it and scaring us all and not answering your texts, but …” Peter wished he had his enhanced vision, because was MJ blushing? He had to be mistaken. Maybe there was dirt on his glasses? “Thank you. I guess. For, you know, body slamming me out of the way.”

His face got hot and his heart thundered against his ribcage. Despite his sour mood, Peter could feel the corners of his mouth twitch. “Well, you’re welcome, I guess.” Was that weird to say? It was, wasn’t it? It sounded arrogant. Oh God, he didn’t want MJ to think he was arrogant. He needed to fix this. “I-I mean, it wasn’t really that big of a deal or anything, so …” The words died on his tongue and maybe that was for the better before he could say something even more stupid.

MJ squinted her eyes. “So you think saving someone’s life isn’t a big deal?” Peter started stammering, not knowing what to say, but she wasn’t waiting for his answer. “Anyway, next time I’ll save you, so start practicing being a damsel in distress.” Her gaze rested on him for a moment and she gave him a quick once over. “Are you okay, though?”

“What?” he asked breathlessly. MJ knew. She knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Why else would she ask that? Did he say something to give it away? Or was it that obvious? Did everyone already know what was going through his mind?

“You hit the wall pretty hard. You actually damaged public property. Is your back okay?”

“Oh.” Breath was flowing back into his lungs, and his heartbeat slowed down. “Yeah, I’m fine. Tony took me straight to a doctor.”

MJ nodded, the scowl on her face softening a bit. “That’s good. He seemed very concerned about you.”

She didn’t sound judgmental, which was weird. Peter could count the times she hasn’t been judgmental about anything on one hand. “I thought you didn’t like him, because he’s a billionaire and has manufactured weapons for so many years, and capitalism has gone too far and leaves the weakest of our society behind, instead of taking care of them.”

“You listened to my rambles?” Peter nodded, not knowing why she sounded so surprised. But then MJ shrugged. “Well, that’s true. But he also stopped designing weapons the moment he found out they were being abused, he’s a pioneer in green energy, he donates a lot to several charities and support college students, he signed the Accords, and he tries to save as many people as he can. The jury is still out.” Suddenly, she avoided his gaze again, opting to look down at her shoes instead. “And you think he’s a good guy, so he can’t be that bad.”

MJ quickly glanced at him, looking at him from under her lashes, the corners of her mouth slightly turned upwards, and Peter swore his heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he wanted to tell her everything. That he was Spider-Man – well, _had been_ Spider-Man. That he was just Peter again, and that Tony was his dad, and that he didn’t know how to feel but her smile made the emptiness inside his chest a bit more manageable, and he just really wanted to tell someone. A tight pressure around his chest almost suffocated him. Maybe he could release some of it if he got the words out that had haunted him for the past two days. Besides, MJ was so smart. She always kept her cool in tough situations, always had a good comeback, always figured out a plan. Maybe she could help him.

“MJ, I-“ The pressure made him choke, blocking every word and every bit of air from getting in or out of his mouth. It was like a complete 180. While he felt confident that she could help only a second ago, now he thought that it was the worst idea he ever had. Why would she help him? They were barely friends. She’d probably think he was being weak, anyway. Or pathetic. He couldn’t tell her. “I … actually need to get to my locker.”

Peter wasn’t looking at her anymore, didn’t see how her face fell for just a second, before she put on her usual scowl. “Yeah, sure. Class is about to start, so …” She didn’t say anything else and walked past him.

When he continued on his way to his locker, Peter realized that she hadn’t called him loser or dork or any other nickname at all.

Ned was waiting for him – Peter noticed it when the boy crashed into him which almost made them fall to the ground. “Peter! Oh my God! Never do something like that to me again! Like, I mean it! I’m too young for any of this! I swear I found a grey hair yesterday!”

“Sorry,” Peter said, though he wasn’t entirely sure for what. For getting hit by the gun? For almost dying? For not answering his recent texts? For not being able to be as happy as he should be? He had so much to apologize for.

His best friend let go of him, though the concerned look in his eyes didn’t disappear. “How are you doing? You look like, not good, dude. Do you feel weird? Any pain? Do you feel like an alien is growing inside you? Because I still think it would be hilarious if-“

“Nah, I’m fine. Just… tired.” And Peter was tired. Not really in a physical sense, but Ned didn’t need to know that. He didn’t really believe him, Peter could tell, but he dropped the topic, opting to explain him what had changed since Monday. Since the cafeteria was closed for the investigation and repairs, they were having lunch on the football field, taking advantage of the nice weather. Apparently, the food was coming from a catering service hired by Stark Industries, too. Ned kept rambling about the updated security, and Principal Morita had urged them to not talk to any reporters or give away Peter’s identity. Everything entered Peter’s head through one ear and then immediately left out of the other one. He really did try to listen and concentrate on their conversation, but the words were so fleeting, slipping through his fingers and out of his grasp, forgotten before he could save them away. The only thing that stayed in his head was white noise, unsatisfying impressions of the world around him, and the persistent voice that kept telling him he wasn’t good enough anymore.

During his English class, Peter had a panic attack. It came out of nowhere. One moment, he was working on his mock essay about the book they were currently reading, and the next second, his heart rate picked up dramatically, and this ominous feeling of doom and dread crashed over him. His fight-or-flight-instinct kicked in, automatically checking the room for possible entry and exit points and the source for this feeling. But there was nothing. His heart kept thundering, breathing was getting more and more difficult, his hands started to shake slightly, and his entire body told him to get away. Still, no danger. Everyone was engrossed in their work, silently finishing the task.

The watch on his wrist started to vibrate almost aggressively. Instinctively, Peter’s shaky fingers moved to the screen to deactivate the alarm, but for a second, he hesitated. When Tony had installed the off-switch, he’d made him swear to not abuse it, to use it to hide anything serious from him. Peter had agreed with an eyeroll, for which he’d gotten a stern look from his father. From experience, the boy knew he was having a panic attack, even though he couldn’t say what triggered it. Still, he typed in the little pattern and the watch stopped. He had to repeat that pattern three times before his panic attack ended.

The rest of the school day was equally awful. The panic attack – which, luckily, had only happened once – had left him drained and exhausted. He had a really hard time concentrating, even though he tried, but his own thoughts distracted him. Wherever he went, the other students stared and pointed at him, whispering behind his back without him hearing what they were saying which was driving him nuts and made him paranoid. The teachers were giving him concerned looks, Mr. Harrington took him aside and asked how he was doing, and Coach Wilson let him sit out in P.E. without even looking at the note Helen had written him. Ned stayed at his side whenever he could, being the loyal friend he always was, but Peter couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness and isolation. He desperately wished this was a bad, a _really bad_ nightmare, and that he would wake up every minute now.

The real metaphorical sucker punch got to him on Peter’s way back to the apartment. He just left through the side entrance and crossed the street, when he passed two young mothers, both around 30-ish with toddlers in strollers, curiously observing the spectacle of the reporters at the main entrance. “It’s unbelievable that something like this could happen in this neighborhood.”

“I know, right? The kids were lucky that Iron Man had showed up.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t really show up, did he? He instantly left, looking after one boy, and ignored everyone else. I’m telling you, if Spider-Man had been there, he wouldn’t have pulled something like that.”

A burning hot stone dropped into Peter’s stomach, and his steps faltered. Spider-Man was gone. Who was going to protect Queens now? That had been his job. Even though he mostly dealt with petty crimes and helped out locals, everyone in Queens knew they could count on him to help them. They embraced their local vigilante. A local police department had made a tweet about crime statistics, proving that crime had dropped because of Spider-Man, even attempted crime because criminals knew about him. They had added a gif of an applauding woman, saying they were so proud of the local spider. Tony had retweeted it, and #thanksspidey had been trending for two days. 

All this time, Peter had only thought about the things that impacted him, but he hadn’t thought about anyone else. When they noticed that Spider-Man wasn’t showing up anymore, would there be more crime again? Would they scream for him and wait for him to swing by and save the day, only to be absolutely disappointed? What if something terrible happened because he wasn’t there? Blinking his frustrated tears away, Peter continued his way home, telling himself that he should at least keep it together until he was home.

The way back home was almost worse than the one in the morning. Peter couldn’t look anyone in the eyes and made himself as small as possible. The closer he got to the apartment building, the faster he got. When he finally reached the door, his heart was beating too fast again, and he had to type in the pattern for the millionth time today. He wasn’t even feeling that guilty about it anymore, and he realized that that wasn’t a good sign, as he pulled out his keys with the four new key chains on them.

Tony had promised to give him less expensive gifts, and Peter had promised to do his best to accept them, knowing that it was his father’s way of showing affection. But as a billionaire, Tony didn’t really know what _less expensive _was – at least not for normal people. So, Tony had begun his quest to find a gift that Peter would accept. Designer clothes were still too expensive, which Tony hadn’t understood because _the designers aren’t even that famous, relax about it_, and so were exclusive Lego sets, which had bumped out both of them, because Peter _wanted_ to accept them, but this was about teaching Tony about money (and he had reassured him he would be getting them for Christmas, so it was fine). Finally, the billionaire found a key chain, and after a quick internet search to see if it was indeed cheap and not some designer key chain, Peter had accepted it. Tony had been so delighted and proud of himself, that he had bought him three more in the course of just two weeks, before Peter had to put a stop to it, setting a weekly limit for gifts. Now, a red and blue rubber spider, an Iron Man helmet, a Lego Yoda, and a miniature triceratops were dangling from his keys.

Peter quickly unlocked the door, let his hand rest on the knob for a second, so the biometric scan inside it could get his fingerprint, before he opened it and walked inside. May was still at work and wouldn’t be home until later. A weight lifted off his shoulders, before it was replaced by guilt. Why was he so relieved to be home alone? To be out of sight and away from everyone? He shouldn’t be.

Even though he’d wished to get back into his bed all day long, Peter didn’t lay down when he entered his room. Instead, he sat down on his desk, and pulled out the old web shooters he had stored in his locker. They were heavy and not as elegant and slick as the ones in his current suit, but he’d used them before he’d gotten the suit from Tony. The vials inside them that hold the web fluid were missing, but he still had a few in his drawer. Without thinking too much about it, he put in a vial and put on the web shooter.

He hadn’t got his strength or senses or stickiness anymore, but maybe he could still be Spider-Man. He’d probably need to modify the suit, making it more like an Iron Man suit, but it could work. It would be a different Spider-Man for sure, though that was better than no Spider-Man at all. Than being the useless, nerdy loser he was now.

The only important thing Peter needed for this to work were his web shooters. If his aim was still good, if his muscles remembered all his actions and instincts, he could pull this off. There was a chance for this to be somewhat okay.

After taking a deep breath, Peter raised his arm, aiming at the Star Wars poster opposite of him, planning to hit Han Solo in the face. His hand was in the iconic pose, his fingers were hovering over the trigger, only a couple of millimeters away.

His fingers started to shake. What if he missed? What would he do then? Did he really want to find out? Would he be able to keep going if it turned out that there was no way he could be Spider-Man anymore?

His watch vibrated in a pulsing way, efficiently distracting Peter from his misery. The cartoonish Iron Man mask was on the screen, as well as a countdown. For a second, he could only stare. He was absolutely sure he hadn’t pressed the panic button. And he’d switched off all the vital alarms. Why was this happening? Peter looked out of the window, expecting to see an armor flying through the sky, even though there were still a couple of minutes left on the countdown.

However, something else caught his attention. The lock on his window. Tony’s security system. The weekend after Peter’s sensory overload, Tony had shown up on their doorstep early in the morning, dressed casually and an impressive toolbox in hand. For the next 36 hours – spending the night on their couch, despite Peter’s offer that he could have the top bunk –, Tony had installed everything he wanted. The knob with the biometric scan, special keys, invisible cameras for the entrance, locks for their windows, and things Peter had been too afraid to ask what they were for. From the outside, it didn’t look any different from the other departments, but that was kind of the point. Tony had also repaired their broken dishwasher, fixed the annoying rattling of their laundry machine, gotten rid of the virus on May’s laptop, and toyed around with their microwave, which was working a lot better now. Peter had helped him while the genius had explained everything he did. May had watched them with a captivated look, and Peter had realized that it was the first time she’d seen Tony work and doing what he did best – create.

Should someone break into their home, which was almost impossible, Tony would be notified. Should someone break in while one of them was home, he or a suit would immediately be on the way to them. Tony had tried to have a suit stationed in their closet, but May had vetoed it. The countdown on his watch now could only mean one thing. Someone broke into their apartment.

Peter froze. Normally, a burglar wouldn’t be a problem for him. But he wasn’t normal anymore. Well, normal _again_. Which was the problem. He was a nerd with poor eyesight, asthma, and close to no upper body strength. He was in no condition to fight someone, especially someone who managed to get through Tony’s system. The smart thing to do was to sit tight, and wait for his father to show up. Maybe hide somewhere, just to make sure that no one was finding him.

But he couldn’t. The same feeling that had urged him to put on the web shooter made him act now. He needed to be brave to be Spider-Man. Hiding somewhere and waiting for someone else to come and save the day was not brave. So, ignoring all the chiming alarm sirens in his head, Peter carefully opened his door and peeked into the living room. There was no one there. Did the watch malfunction? Was there a different reason for the countdown to start? A bit hesitant, he stepped further in the room. He couldn’t hear anything, and nothing seemed out of place. There was no trace at all of anyone besides him being in the apartment. Maybe someone just accidently touched the knob and triggered the alarm? Peter decided to check the kitchen, and turned around – only to see an arrow pointed straight at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line: He wanted to be alright. 
> 
> There are a lot of things I want to say, but I don't know how to say them properly, so just bear with me.   
Depression sucks. Sometimes, there is a reason for it, sometimes it's just unbalanced chemicals in your head. Don't look too hard for a why, it'll just drive you crazy. Talking to someone does help, even though it seems like the scariest shit ever and you literally want to do anything else than that. If someone tells you they're depressed/are not well, don't be a dick. Don't try to analyse them and find a reason for what's happening. Just be supportive, patient, and listen.   
Panic attacks were driving me crazy. I literally used to have two a day during my depressive episodes. It was driving me insane, but then my psychiatrist told me something and now I maybe have an attack twice a year and only if I'm feeling really bad. He told me I just have to remember two things. Panic attacks do not last longer than 20 minutes, even though it can feel like forever. A panic attack can not kill you. If you're struggling with them, I really hope this will help you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! 
> 
> We finally find out what's the deal with the mysterious arrow! ... Though it wasn't very hard to figure out, judging by all your comments. Btw, thanks so much for them!! <3 
> 
> Also, thank you to [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) who was my beta-reader.
> 
> Enjoy!

For a second, Peter wondered if he should put his hands in the air. They always did that in movies. Then again, the people in movies never had an arrow three inches in front of them aimed by an archer that never missed. Okay, maybe there were _some_ movies with a similar situation, but Peter couldn’t remember any right now. He was having a really hard time concentrating on anything, given that a _freaking_ arrow was _three inches_ from his face – neatly and steadily pointing right between his eyebrows – and that no other than _Hawkeye_, Clint Barton, was pointing it at him.

Peter decided that it would be useless to put his hands in the air. The arrow would pierce his skull before he could even move a muscle. A small part of him wondered if he would be able to catch the arrow if he still had his powers. He would’ve heard and sensed Barton beforehand, that’s for sure. Another hurtful reminder that he was just useless like this.

“Hey Peter,” Barton said, and sounded way too relaxed. On the other hand, he was the one doing all the arrow-pointing, and had no reason to be nervous. “I’m Clint.”

“I know,” Peter answered, and hated how high his voice suddenly was. He wanted to clear his throat, but he didn’t dare it. What if the noise startled the archer and he fired by accident? That would be a shitty way to go.

In Germany, what now seemed like a lifetime ago, Peter hadn’t really fought Barton that much, barely at all, but this version of him looked different than the one back then. He wasn’t in his iconic black, sleeveless outfit, but in a sweater that was either dark grey or a dirty blue or maybe a weird shade of green. Peter couldn’t really tell, which was probably the point. His jeans looked like any pair you’d find in any store around the country, and the backpack on his back looked a bit like the one Peter had lost months ago. If you’d see him on the street, you wouldn’t spare him a second glance.

“I’m guessing Tony is already on his way,” the archer continued, as carefree as if he was describing the weather. “So, that gives us about three to four minutes until he or one of his suits bursts in here.” He was right. The countdown had started a bit over four minutes. “Why don’t we use that time to get to know each other?”

Peter couldn’t say anything. He’d been in dangerous situations before – objectively way more dangerous ones. But this felt different. Barton wasn’t the Vulture, he didn’t steal from people. He’d been one of the good guys, and yet it also felt different from meeting Rogers, Romanoff, and Wilson. Then again, they hadn’t been attacking him and he’d also had his powers back then. However, this entire situation had such a strange vibe to it. Maybe it was because Barton was simultaneously threatening to pin his brain to the opposite wall while attempting casual small talk with him. That was new. Normally, everyone told him that having a conversation while fighting wasn’t what normal etiquette. But were they really fighting? This was so confusing.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Barton said, sounding so much like his old elementary teacher who had encouraged him to find new friends – which was Ned – after he had switched schools because he’d moved in with Ben and May.

“You’re pointing an arrow at me,” Peter deadpanned.

“Well, yeah, but I haven’t shot.” A small smirk pulled at his mouth. “Yet, at least.”

“That’s… not very comforting.”

“Trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Then why don’t you lower the bow? And why did you break into my home?” A part of Peter’s brain told him to not be so brash, that he was in no position to make any demands, but all he needed to do was stall until Tony or one of the suits arrived.

“I’m sure Tony will ask the same questions, and I really don’t feel like repeating everything I say, so we’ll just wait for a bit.” Barton’s eyes never strayed from his, and Peter felt hypnotized, completely unable to look away. He wanted to check his watch, because he lost all feeling for time. His phone started to vibrate in his pocket, and in the quiet, tense apartment, the noise was unnervingly loud. “Bet that’s him.” Probably, but Peter didn’t dare to fish his phone out of his pocket to check. The device stopped after a few seconds, only for the landline, their actual, barely used _landline_, to start ringing. None of them moved a muscle and continued their staring contest.

Eventually, the ringing stopped. “If you don’t want to answer my questions, what do you want to talk about?” Peter asked.

“I just want to find out what’s so special about you that Tony takes so much interest in you.” It hit Peter that Barton didn’t know. Didn’t know who he was, that he was Tony’s illegitimate kid, or that he used to be Spider-Man. Suddenly, he was very grateful that he’d put on his web shooters and that his sleeves covered them. Not that he was really a match for the master spy, but he felt somewhat relieved that he would have the element of surprise on his side.

“I-I’m just Mr. Stark’s intern,” Peter said, trying to look as intimidated as he could. Which wasn’t really difficult right now.

“Exactly,” Barton confirmed. “Tony doesn’t have personal interns.” Peter didn’t know what to say to that. “So, why did he hire you? A High Schooler on top of all, even though SI doesn’t have High School interns.”

“Well, now they do.” Instantly, he bit his tongue. He shouldn’t be this forward. The arrow was still only three inches from destroying a vital organ.

“An intern that’s so important, Tony leaves crucial meetings and hazardous fights to take you to his personal doctors.” They weren’t really Tony’s doctors, more like Peter’s, but he couldn’t say that. “An intern on which you can find almost nothing about on the internet, even people who know how to find things. An intern who lives in an apartment that has a personalized security system that can only have been installed by Tony.”

Peter didn’t know how to explain any of that. He needed to improvise, he needed to lie, to make up _believable_ lies – and he pretty much sucked at all of that. There was a reason why everyone said he was like an open book. “I-I know his secret, very complicated Starbucks order?”

This time, Barton actually smiled. “We all know that he’s only drinking black coffee. It’s basically running through his veins at this point.” Was all of this really happening? Or was he dreaming? Did he had an asthma attack and passed out? Because him standing here, being threatened by Hawkeye while also joking around was unreal. However, he wasn’t getting a chance to figure out what exactly was going on. “How did you become his intern?”

_He needed someone to help fight you and your friends_. “I, uh, I applied for the September Foundation.”

“That’s only for college students.”

Shit, he forgot that. “My aunt encouraged me to try my luck. Said the worst thing that could happen is that I won’t hear back from them, so I gave it a shot.”

“What project did you submit?”

_I guess my web fluid_. “I sent a couple of ideas. He said he was very impressed by my idea of a potato arc reactor.”

“That sounds like something from a science fair.”

“Well, I didn’t _mean_ to include it. It was stuck between two different projects.”

“So, you’re an Iron Man fan?”

“I’m a Tony Stark fan,” he corrected, because it seemed important to make that clear.

Barton huffed in an amused way, smiling and showing his teeth in a non-threatening way. “I can see why he wants to keep you around.” Peter almost flinched, because how long will Tony want to keep him around now? “By the way, how’s your back?”

The boy blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“Your back. I saw the wall in the cafeteria. Looked pretty bad.”

For a second, Peter couldn’t breathe. No pictures of the cafeteria had been published. That meant Barton had to either hack into the police report or had been at his school. Which would mean that he’d followed him without Peter noticing him at all. The thought left a bitter, disgusting taste in his mouth. What did he see? Did he maybe see or hear anything that would blow Peter’s cover? Any of them, for that matter?

Peter didn’t get a chance to answer. Suddenly, Barton’s eyes darted to the side, and Peter thought he was smiling a bit – but then the lock on the closest window started to beep twice and it opened by itself. Before he could even begin to wonder how it did that, a flash of red and gold flew into the room, planting itself in the middle of the room. The second the suit touched the ground, it raised an arm and fired at the archer, who managed to dodge the attack with a roll backwards in the last second. Peter was breathless as he watched the now scorched point at the wall.

Barton, however, smirked. “Good to see you, Tony.”

The helmet retracted to reveal that it was indeed Tony in the suit, not just an empty armor. And he looked angry. No, not angry. Beyond angry. Furious. Peter had never, ever seen him like that. Not after the ferry, not after his sensory overload a few weeks back, not when he tried to hide the gun shot wound that had gotten infected. His face was harder than steel, his eyes colder than ice, there was something dark in them, too, something unpredictable, and the muscles around his mouth twitched in fury. He looked down right terrifying. Peter knew that, if he would be on the receiving end of this stare, he would break in nanoseconds.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Tony snarled, his voice sharp and deep, and he raised his arm again, aiming at the archer. “Now!”

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Hawkeye said, seemingly unbothered by the very real threat in front of him. “I’m just here to chat.”

“Give me just the tiniest reason to blast you through the next three walls. I’ll do it in a heartbeat.” The archer didn’t answer, but Tony wasn’t waiting for one. Instead, he narrowed his eyes. “You know what? I just decided I don’t need another reason to do that. Bye, Barton.”

The charging noise of the repulsors busted Peter out of his stupor. “Wait!” he yelled, jumping forward and grabbing Tony’s outstretched arm, but the man wasn’t listening. He couldn’t say why he exactly he wanted him to stop – maybe to stop him from destroying their apartment. That had to be the reason. Because to save the man who had been pointing a weapon at him for the past five minutes would be a really bad reason, right? It didn’t matter that they joked around. Or that he had indeed didn’t do anything threatening besides pointing an arrow at him.

But Barton didn’t need saving. He wasn’t stupid.

Out of the corners of his eyes, Peter saw Hawkeye blink a few times, his eyes darting from Tony to Peter and back. For a second, he lost his composure, dropping his bow a few inches, and openly staring at them. “You’re his father.” It wasn’t a question.

Tony held the shot, just as surprised about the statement as Peter was, whose heart dropped to the deepest bit of his stomach. Because he didn’t know how to react, he looked to his father, who had turned into a statue. A tense silence filled the room. Nobody dared to make the tiniest of moves. Peter could almost hear Tony thinking, his thoughts running through his mind at lightning speed, while the boy was unable to produce a single, productive thought. Or any unproductive thought, for that matter. His anxiety took over, making every muscle in his body flex, ready for either fight or flight. Peter was pretty sure his hands would have been shaking if he hadn’t been holding on to the Iron Man armor.

“Explain,” Tony finally demanded, neither confirming nor denying the statement.

The archer smiled a bit, gentle and placatory. “You know what they say. Takes one to know one, right?” Peter blinked. Did that mean Hawkeye had a kid? He never heard about it. On the other side, it wasn’t really like they were best friends. “And it explains everything. Making him your priority over literally everything else, making sure he’s safe, sending a message to Bruce to come back that could be heard in the entire solar system-“

“Further than that,” Tony threw in.

“Erasing all his information on the internet, and losing your mind when he’s even in the slightest bit of danger.”

Tony scoffed, but there was no humor or amusement behind it. “You’re saying you threatening to kill him is the _slightest bit of danger_?”

“Do you honestly think I would hurt a kid?” This time, the archer seemed almost insulted. “Your kid, on top of all of that?”

“Two minutes ago, you didn’t know that.”

“But I did know that he’s very important to you.” He held up his bow and arrow, and slowly laid them on the ground before standing up. A peace offering. “I never would’ve hurt him. All I wanted was your reaction to him being in danger. You can tell a lot about a person when they see that someone they love is in danger.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Peter piped up. Because he really hadn’t. Scared him, yes; confused him with his attempt at small talk, sure; but Clint hadn’t touched a single hair on his head. Tony gave Peter a quick look, as if to make sure that he was really okay, before looking back to his former teammate. He didn’t lower his arm.

“Shouldn’t some poor agent lose his mind over you being outside your little home?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “C’mon, have some faith in me. I know how to get out of an ankle monitor without setting off any alarms, and Laura got a Roomba a few weeks ago, happily driving through our living room. The agents won’t know the difference.”

“So, naturally, the second Rogers calls you to do his bidding, you violate the deal you made?”

“Steve didn’t ask me to do this.” Tony already opened his mouth, but Clint didn’t let him say anything. “Nat did.”

He said it like it made a difference, like it was very important that Natasha asked him to break into Peter’s home and not Rogers. And, apparently, it did. Tony’s stone-like face crumbled, and slowly, almost like an after-thought, he lowered his arm. The repulsor turned off. Some of the tension in the room eased away. A bit hesitantly, Peter let go of the armor.

After a couple of seconds, Clint continued. “She wants the team to get back together.” Tony let out a humorless, disbelieving laugh, but before he could for a single word, Clint was already talking again. “Despite what you may think, she regrets how things turned out in Germany. We all do. I don’t think any of us, including you, thought our little disagreement would lead to… this,” He gestured around the room, and, honestly, it did explain everything he couldn’t put in words. “I know you and Cap had… I don’t know what, to be honest, but I know something happened.”

Peter remembered the damage report of Tony’s last suit. The hologram that was almost entirely covered in red. The split in the middle of his chest. The mumbled begs for Rogers to stop. A cold feeling crept up his spine, and Peter had to suppress the urge to reach for Tony again.

For a second, Tony didn’t say anything, just staring at Clint with an unreadable expression. Eventually, he opened his mouth again, and sounded a lot more hurt than he would’ve probably liked to admit. “You fought on his side.”

As if it was no big deal, the archer shrugged. “We all fight for what we believe is right.” Suddenly, his carefree attitude disappeared and was replaced with something more serious, something meaningful that Peter couldn’t quite describe. “But I also know that Scott and I both got a deal that allows us to be with our families, even though Ross wanted us to stay in prison. And I know that Steve wasn’t the one negotiating this deal, so that leaves only one person.” Peter held his breath as the men kept staring at each other. “Thank you, Tony.”

Time stood still for a moment, waiting for what would happen next. But Tony only averted his eyes and sniffed once. “Why did Nat ask you to come here?”

Clint took the hint and ignored the emotions in the room that threatened to choke all of them. Instead, he just nodded in Peter’s direction. “Because of Mystery Boy over there. She wants to know why you’re so interested in him, and if he’d be a threat to getting the Avengers back together. Or worse.”

Peter didn’t understand the last part. What could be worse than keeping the Avengers apart?

Tony tensed up again, and Peter didn’t miss that he was moving in front of him. Clint didn’t miss it either. “And what are you going to tell her?” His words weren’t nice. He was still in his suit, his repulsor charged up again, while Clint’s bow lay to his feet. It was clear that this wasn’t a meaningless question. 

For a moment, Clint looked at Tony before his eyes moved to Peter. “Well,” he said, and reached for something in his pocket.

Peter reacted before he could think twice about it. And he should have thought twice about it.

He couldn’t really say why the thought suddenly popped up in his head, but in that moment, Peter was sure that Barton was going to attack them. Surely, he had more than one weapon on him. And Tony didn’t react, so Peter had to before something bad could happen. He raised his hand with the web shooter and fired, aiming to pin Barton’s arm to his side and therefore rendering him defenseless.

Peter missed. The web hit the door frame and stuck to it, completely useless.

He _missed_. He never missed before. He could hit targets he hadn’t been looking at, could hit things he only sensed, could make the web shoot through the air as if they had a mind of their own. Spider-Man never missed. How could Peter still be Spider-Man if he misses?

“I know those webs.” The words pulled Peter out of his crisis and back into the apartment. Barton stared at him, but Peter wasn’t dwelling on him and trying to find out what the emotions behind his eyes were. Instead, he looked to Tony, who was watching him with an expression that wasn’t happy. Which was understandable. Because he messed up. A lot.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, quickly pulling the sleeve over the web shooter, as if it would undo the last few seconds. “I-I just thought he was pulling o-out a gun or knife or something.”

Tony didn’t answer and Peter couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing. Barton moved again, drawing the attention of the pair to himself, and pulled something out of his pocket, throwing it on the ground between them. It was a stack of pictures, all of him from this day – walking to school, riding the subway, sitting in class, sitting outside in the football field during lunch. They weren’t showing anything special, just normal, useless Peter Parker with his big, nerdy glasses, but seeing them still made him feel very uneasy.

“I was going to tell her that he’s no threat, but now I think I should dig a little deeper.” The archer looked straight at him, and Peter almost hid behind Tony. “I got a feeling that the potato arc reactor was a lie.” Tony was visibly confused, but no one took the time to explain it to him. “So, how did this happen? How did you hide your son from Nat when she first investigated you? And why did you let him fight _your_ fight?” 

“Why should I answer any of that? It’s none of your business,” Tony spat back, but Hawkeye didn’t look carefree and amused anymore. Apparently, he drew the line somewhere.

“Oh, it is. Because I’m the one who decides if Nat lays off your back or if she does her own investigation. Do you want that?” Tony didn’t answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, after Ultron failed, did you decide to make your next project and just used your own son as a test subject? And give it a test run in Germany?”

Peter also had a line that shouldn’t be crossed. And Barton just crossed it. “No, he didn’t,” he said with more vigor than he had planned to. Tony gave him a look that told him to be silent, but he ignored it. He wasn’t just going to stand around while this man implied that his father would do something like that in his own home. “Tony didn’t give me my powers, and he asked me to join him to fight you because _your team_ couldn’t just sit down and talk about it!”

“You wore a Stark suit.”

“Yes, because my original one was practically a hoodie that I drew a spider on. It wasn’t safe, and he gave me something that would give me more protection, because he knew I wouldn’t stop unless I had to. He made sure I was safe and he was looking over my shoulder and gave me tips and looked out for me. Thanks to him, I could keep Queens safe while being safe myself.” Right now, he was feeling more than he had all day long. His shoulders were rising and falling with his heavy breathing, and he was more than ready to give a gazillion other reasons why Tony wasn’t a careless parent, but Barton caught him off guard.

The archer turned his head a bit to the side. “Why the past tense?”

Peter blinked. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head to the webs that missed their mark, still clinging useless to the door. “Aren’t you still Spider-Man?”

The blood in Peter’s veins turned to ice. He hadn’t even noticed his slip of tongue, but now it seemed like the final nail in his coffin. His subconsciousness had already accepted the fact that he couldn’t be Spider-Man anymore. Not like this. Every tiny piece of courage that had fueled him just a second ago vanished. He wanted to hide, to hole up in his bed under his blanket and never go out again.

Tony stepped in front of him, half-shielding him from Clint’s burning gaze. “Spider-Man is taking a break,” he said in a voice that didn’t let any room for questions, “but I can reassure you that he’s better than all of us combined, so don’t worry about that.”

“Not without my powers, I’m not,” Peter mumbled, only realizing that he said it out loud when the words were already out of his mouth.

His father looked over his shoulder to him, holding his gaze to make sure he understood what he said. “I wasn’t talking about your powers, kid.” He sounded so sincere, so convinced, that Peter almost believed him.

“How did you find out that you’re his father?” Clint asked, thankfully ignoring the emotional tension between the pair.

“By accident, about three months ago,” Tony confessed. Peter didn’t know why he was suddenly giving up the information willingly, while he had been so hostile just a few moments ago, but it was easier than keeping him from perforating the apartment. “Happy recognized his mother, I ran a few tests, and… there was a bit of chaos, but we sorted it out. And just for the record, I considered him my kid even before those tests, so I would’ve blasted you out of this apartment regardless of us being related.”

“That’s why Nat didn’t know about him. Because you didn’t.” Tony shrugged once. Clint just looked at him for a moment, searching his face for something – Peter didn’t know what exactly and he also didn’t know if he found it or not. “How did he get his powers?”

“A radioactive spider bit him. And, no, it wasn’t my spider. SI doesn’t work on mutation and radiation on living beings, just in case you forgot that.”

“OsCorp?” Clint looked back at Peter, who nodded briefly.

“My teacher thought it would be a fun field trip.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah, sounds like you had a blast.”

You could cut the tension filling the room, the silence that stretched between them swallowing every noise from outside the apartment. Peter’s heart thundered in his chest and his palms were sweaty. He longed for his enhanced senses, so he could read the room better, so he could hear Tony’s heartbeat to calm himself down.

“What are you gonna tell her?” Tony asked after what seemed like an eternity.

Clint’s eyes move from Tony to Peter and back again. Then, a smile spread across his face. “I’ll tell her that he’ll probably be the reason why the band gets back together.” As if the last minutes hadn’t been filled with very serious threats, the archer bent down, picked up his weapons and stashed them away in his backpack. “Can’t promise that it’ll satisfy her, though.”

“That’s all?” he asked, sounding as confused as Peter was feeling. “No word about who he is?”

“Do you want me to tell her?” Both father and son shook their heads. Clint shrugged. “Then I won’t. It’s not my place to tell, and… and I get it. I trust you all with my life, I know you’ll have my back, but there’s a reason I didn’t tell you about my family until I absolutely had to. Nat only knew about them because I was with her when Laura went into labor with Lila. She’s also the reason that I got there in time to welcome her into the world.” He turned to Peter, the easy-going smile back on his face, his former air of carefreeness around him. “By the way, I have a wife and three kids. Two boys, one girl. My oldest is about two years younger than you. I’m sure you’d get along great. You should stop by when you’ve got some time, Tony knows where I live. You ever been to a farm?” Peter just shook his head no, too floored by all the information he just received to actually form words. “Oh, you’ll love it. You can ride a tractor.”

“I would be careful about that promise, you haven’t seen him drive yet,” Tony said and it almost sounded like a joke.

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Peter grumbled, the heat already gathering in his cheeks.

Clint laughed, shouldering his backpack. Somehow, he didn’t look like a criminal that just broke into his apartment, but like an old friend stalling his departure. “Luckily, there’s a lot of open space to practice.” Then, he turned to Tony, and he got a bit more serious again. “When they come to talk to you, don’t turn them away before listening to them. The world needs the Avengers, and a fist is stronger than five individual fingers.” Clint nodded to Peter, who had stepped out of Iron Man’s shadow now that the dangerous tension was gone. “And you’ve just got more reasons to keep the world safe.”

Tony didn’t answer, but the archer wasn’t expecting one, anyway. He waved goodbye to Peter, who waved back awkwardly – do you wave goodbye to the burglar that threatened you with an arrow? He didn’t know the proper etiquette. However, before he could leave, Tony found his voice again. “Clint.” The man stopped, and looked back over his shoulder. “I’ll have to tell his ridiculously hot aunt that you broke in here and threatened him, and she’ll probably finally agree to have a suit stationed in the closet to keep him safe, so… thanks, I guess.”

Clint smirked and gave him a mock-salute. “Well, I’m glad I could help out.” And with those words, he left the apartment.

For a moment, they just stood there, processing what just happened. Peter’s eyes were fixed on the scorched part of the wall. May wasn’t going to be happy when she saw that. The webs he could get rid of, but that? Maybe they could hang a photo up there? Eventually, Tony stepped out of the suit. He absentmindedly started to massage his left wrist as he turned to him. “Are you okay?”

Peter nodded. Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow. Peter had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m okay. A little spooked maybe, but he really didn’t hurt me. Just talked.”

“Which is much worse than any attack of his,” he joked, and the corners of Peter’s mouth lifted up for a second. His father was still staring at him, deep in thought. Peter could only speculate about what. It used to be easier to guess what was going on in his head, because he could pick up on the smallest details, but that skill was gone. It was making him nervous. Was he thinking about the way Peter messed up and revealed that he was Spider-Man? Or rather had been Spider-Man? He must be mad about it. Sure, Clint had figured out that he was his son, but if it wasn’t for his stupidity, he wouldn’t have known about the vigilante’s identity.

Tony had a different question, though. “How was school?”

“School?” he asked, because he couldn’t follow his thought. How could he ask about school now, at a moment like this?

His father nodded. “Yeah, school. You went today, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, I did.”

“And was everything okay?”

“It was fine. Why?”

“FRIDAY said your watch had been picking up an unusual amount of activity today.”

Just like that, the bad thoughts were back. Peter felt guilty. He’d promised Tony that he wouldn’t deactivate the alarm when he had a panic attack, and yet he did. More than once. How could he tell him that he was anxious to be around people now, even though he used to do much scarier things as Spider-Man? How could he tell him that he wasn’t happy?

Suddenly, everything was too much. He needed to be alone. He couldn’t be around Tony anymore, not like this. Not when he knew that Tony would eventually realize that this Peter wasn’t worth his time and attention anymore. At once, he looked down at his socked feet, staring at the small hole over one of his toes. “I-I was just nervous being back there. Th-That’s all.”

“So, nothing happened? No one gave you any crap?” Peter shook his head, and his father was silent for a moment. “You don’t have to go back to school right now, you know? I’m sure Helen can write you a note. If you don’t feel up for it, then-“

“It’s fine,” he interrupted Tony, giving him a forced, brief smile, before looking away again. “It’s fine, it was just-… weird. Anyway, I was about to take a nap when Clint arrived, so…”

“Yeah, sure, get your sleep.” Was Peter imagining the hurt in Tony’s voice? Or was it something else? He couldn’t tell. He used to be able to tell the emotions apart, used to categorize the smallest changes in his voice. But now he couldn’t hear them. “I’ll stay for a bit and wait for May, explain the situation to her. Maybe we can order some dinner later.”

Peter nodded, before he went to hide in his room. He laid down in his bed, his back to the door, pulled up the blanket to his chin, and just stayed there. He tried to listen to Tony in the other room, but he couldn’t hear him. It made him feel even more isolated and lonely, and a part of him wanted desperately to go back and confess everything that was going through his mind – but he just couldn’t. The simple thought of Tony’s disappointed face was enough to turn him into a coward. So, he stayed in bed. He stayed there when May came home and he heard their hushed conversation in the living room. He stayed there when his door opened and he pretended to sleep. The person didn’t step into his room or said anything, but silently closed the door again. Hours later, May would _wake him up_ to eat. Tony was long gone at this point. A black hole was forming in his chest, sucking in all of his emotions and energy, leaving him apathetic and tired.

Why was this happening to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line of the chapter: “I got a feeling that the potato arc reactor was a lie.”
> 
> When I thought about this story, I always planned for Clint to be the first one to figure out the relationship between Tony and Peter, just because he's also a dad. I'm a bit nervous about the entire characterizations of Clint and Tony here, juggling their joking sides but also their parental concerns. I think I did okay? 
> 
> Anway, thanks for reading this!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> I still can't find the right words to thank you all for your support. It's always blowing me away! Thanks so, so much!! <3
> 
> [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) was once again my beta-reader, so a big thank you to them!
> 
> Enjoy :)

“That’s great news. I’m glad we’re all on the same page on this thing. Yes, it’s an incredible product and we’re also branching out, basically a win-win-situation. No, I didn’t do it all by myself, my intern helped me. Actually, he wasn’t really helping me – yes, exactly, that intern, my personal one, I just have that one – anyway, as I was saying, he wasn’t helping me, we were working on it together. It’s just as much his invention as it’s mine. Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell him myself. Oh, he’ll be so happy, he’ll lose his mind. Thanks for letting me know. Yes, we should, PR would probably like to get a heads up. Bye, Thomas.”

Tony hung up the phone, trying very hard to keep the proud smile off his face and failing miserably at it. Turning around to face Pepper, who was sitting at her behind her desk and tried to actually work. She’d come home from Spain late the night before, and because she’s Pepper, she didn’t need a day to deal with the jet lag, and instead went right back to leading the company. Tony had barged into her office to convince her to ditch her job and have an early dinner with him, when he got the call from one of the board members.

“Guess what,” he prompted, but didn’t even give her any time to try to guess. Not that she was going to. She was perfectly aware of what just happened. “The board approved. Stark Industries will be manufacturing cameras.”

“That’s great,” she agreed, giving him a small, honest smile and set her pen aside. “Peter worked really hard on it.” Tony didn’t even make a joke that _excuse you, we both worked really hard on it, where’s my praise?_ but just smiled, too happy with how things turned out. Not that he’d expected anything else. The camera was fantastic – and if the board wouldn’t have approved, Tony would’ve just overruled them, but he wanted to do this the right way for Peter. Which was also the reason he hadn’t been part of the meeting. He wanted the product to speak for itself, and it clearly did.

About two weeks after Tony had picked Peter up from school, they had started to work on their little project. When Tony had suggested it, he’d thought they would spend weeks on it, making it something that would take them a couple of months. Well, it did take them weeks. Two weeks, to be exact. And that was only because they promised to only work on it when they’re together, so Tony had to wait while Peter was at school, and Peter had to keep still whenever Tony was in a meeting he couldn’t dodge.

It had started innocent enough. They had officially created a folder for their ideas and started brainstorming. And that was where it got out of hand. They hadn’t really worked on a project together before, not like this. Peter had always looked over Tony’s shoulder while the man had explained everything he did, or Tony had given him small tasks or they’d worked on updates the other had thought of. It had always been like one had an idea and the other just tagged along. But now, they had worked on it together, from the first basic idea to the last finishing touches.

There weren’t a lot of people Tony could work with like that. Bruce had been the last one Tony had worked with this close, had created things with. Everyone else was just a little too slow to keep up with him. But Peter wasn’t slow. And instead of Bruce’s grounding calmness, he had an infectious excitement to him that made working in the lab simply more fun. He’d loved every single second working on the project, and he honestly couldn’t wait to start the next one.

They ended up making two cameras. One for Peter that was totally unique and all the crazy features they wanted, and one that would be more fit for mass production. Tony had explained what to look out for, had explained the cost of production and profit and everything else that made inventing a little bit less fun, but Peter had soaked up every word like a sponge. He had used his own camera plenty of times already. He’d been so excited that he’d literally photographed everyone and everything. Seriously. There were enough pictures to fill a photo album already. DUM-E had been more than pleased to be his model – Happy not so much. And maybe it was Tony’s parental side that claimed everything the boy touched was a masterpiece, but he had talent. They were really good pictures. There were also a lot of silly ones, but he was a teenager, he loved silly stuff.

“I’m gonna call him,” Tony announced, already looking for Peter’s number in his phone. “He’ll freak out, I’m telling you.” The billionaire was so excited that he didn’t even notice how the smile on Pepper’s face slipped. The phone was ringing. And ringing. And ringing. Impatiently, Tony looked at his watch. Peter definitely wasn’t in school anymore, and there was no Decathlon meeting today. He should have picked up, but instead it went to voicemail. Tony hung up, and immediately called again. Maybe he didn’t hear it. Maybe he was in another room and couldn’t reach it in time. There was a perfectly normal explanation for Peter not picking up, he was sure about it.

Finally, the boy answered the phone. “’ello?”

“Peter!” Tony ignored the way his anxiety dropped. Peter was fine. He answered the phone. No need to worry. “Finally, I’ve been calling you for _ages_.”

There was a beat of silence, then a mumbled: “Sorry. Took a nap.” The mechanic tried not to think about the lack of Peter’s usual sass or that he was taking a lot of naps in the last few days.

“Don’t sweat it. I just want to tell you about a phone call I just had.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna guess who it was?”

“Who?”

Tony told himself that the lack of syllabuses in his answers wasn’t concerning. He was probably still sleepy. Suddenly, he was very aware of Pepper’s somewhat concerned look, and he had to turn his back to her, pretending to look out of the window. “It was Thomas, who’s part of the board of directors. Y’know, the one that decides if the StarkCamera comes to life or not.”

“And? What did he say?” There was some rustling in the background, and for the first time in their conversation, Tony felt like Peter was actually excited.

“They loved it! I mean, of course they did, the StarkCamera is awesome. Maybe we should change the name, though, it’s quite a mouthful. Meh, PR will come up with something catchy, they always do. I’m only good at acronyms, and they always say they aren’t that marketable, which I disagree with, but whatever. Anyway, they approved and we can start manufacturing in a few weeks.”

“That’s – That’s awesome! Holy cow, for real?”

“No, I just wanted to prank you. Of course it’s real! I never joke about my stuff – or _our_ stuff – being officially approved, instead of me doing what I want. But they approved unanimously – okay, almost unanimously, but the two airheads who’d voted against it are also the ones that try to get SI back into the weapon industry at least once every quarter, so just ignore them. Honestly, we only haven’t fired them yet because they’ll retire soon and nobody wants to deal with the unnecessary paperwork.” Peter huffed out a laugh, and Tony felt like he was high on serotonin. This was a good day, he could feel it. So, he pushed his luck.

Which he shouldn’t have done.

“We should celebrate.” He didn’t register that Peter stopped laughing. “We should get food. Shawarma? You liked it, right? No, I have a better idea, we’ll get something fancy.”

“Uh… I-“

“There’s this great French restaurant around the corner – like, Manhattan-around the corner, not Queens-around the corner – and they usually don’t deliver, but they’ll do it for me. Probably. They’d be stupid if they don’t, I mean, it is known that I tip very well.”

“Tony, it’s-“

“Should we do it at your place or the Tower? I think we should do it at yours. May will be home around 7-ish, right? Pepper can come, too, she just got back from Barcelona.”

“I–“

“And we can invite Happy and Rhodey, they always accept my invitations when there’s free food. What about Ned? And MJ? Y’know, maybe we should do it at the Tower after all, there’s enough space and–“

“I don’t think it’s the best idea,” Peter said, interrupting Tony’s unstoppable word-vomit.

“What do you mean? Do you not like French? We can get something else. Have you tried Korean? Or maybe–“

“I-I don’t-… I mean, I got a lot of homework, and it’s a very kind offer, Mr. Stark, but-“ They both stopped. Peter stopped speaking, and Tony stopped breathing.

_Mr. Stark_.

Peter had called him _Mr. Stark_. He hadn’t done that in months. He called him Tony, had called him Tones once when Peter had spent an entire day with Rhodey, and occasionally a Dad slipped through his lips – most of the time in a sarcastic tone, sometimes when he was half-asleep, and once every blue moon, he said it sincerely. And now he said Mr. Stark. Not only that, but it had felt so… formal. Professional and distant.

Tony didn’t know that his own name could hurt him so much. But it did. It punched all the air out of his lungs, and froze his heart, making it heavy and lazy. Before his eyes, he saw the memory of Peter hurrying out of his lab, trying to get away from him, and not seeing or speaking with him for two weeks.

On the other side of the line, Peter’s breathing was heavy. He realized what he said. Tony was pretty sure that, if he could see the boy’s face, he would look like a deer caught in headlights. The tension between them didn’t dissolve. No, quite the opposite. It got worse with every second that passed.

Tony knew he should say something. That he should be the adult and do something. But he couldn’t. His brain was too focused on Mr. Stark. With every passing day, their relationship had improved, and Tony knew it was also because they worked on the camera together. Two weeks ago, Peter had called him after he had had a nightmare - okay, he hadn’t told him it was because of that. At almost 3 AM, Tony had still been working in his lab, figuring out the nanites, when FRIDAY had informed him about the call. From Peter’s vital, Tony could tell that he had a nightmare and he had answered. The boy had made up some lie about not being able to fall asleep, and they had talked for quite some time. Tony had rambled about anything that crossed his mind, but had stayed clear of any topics that could trigger his son. At the end, Peter had quietly thanked him, and even though he hadn’t told him why he’d called, Tony knew it had been the first big step into the right direction.

And now, it felt like they did two hundred steps backwards.

Peter broke the silence. “I- … I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“It’s fine,” Tony cut him off, even though nothing was fine. “We can reschedule. Listen, I gotta go, I’ll talk to you soon, alright?” He heard Peter’s mumbled okay and hung up. The urge to throw his phone against the wall, no, out of the window, was almost overwhelming, but he just slipped it back into his pocket. He wanted to go to his lab and build something. Maybe update his repulsors and shoot something.

“Tony?”

Pepper. Right. She was still in the room, and she’d witnessed the absolute train wreck of phone call that had just happened.

Tony sniffed once and turned around, carefully schooling his features into a blank mask. “So, what about our dinner plans?”

She didn’t even grace his deflection with an answer. “What did Peter say?”

“He’s got homework, so no celebration dinner.” Pepper raised a perfect eyebrow, prompting him – no, _forcing_ him to continue. “And he called me Mr. Stark.” The words were like acid on his tongue, destroying him from the inside, eating away everything. Pepper’s eyes softened, but Tony couldn’t stand to look at that expression right now. He sniffed again. “It’s not a big deal, just a slip of the tongue. An accident. It means nothing.” Maybe, if he said it often enough, he will actually start to believe it. “So, dinner?”

“Can you stop deflecting for a second, and actually talk to me?” She stood up from her chair, slowly walking over to him. “You know you can’t fool me, right?” He knew that. It was one of the reasons why he loved her so much. Somehow, she was always able to see through all of his bullshit, tear down all of his walls, and pull away his masks.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to deflect anymore. Maybe because it hurt so much, maybe because talking around the issue never works around Pepper, maybe because of something else, but he wanted to talk about it. It felt like Thor had set Mjölnir on his chest. “He said Mr. Stark.” This time, he didn’t say it casually. Pepper grabbed his hands. “He hasn’t done that in weeks.”

“It means nothing,” she tried to reassure him. “He’s just… not in a good place right now.”

They all knew Peter wasn’t doing well. Hell, he wasn’t even doing okay. Before Helen had sent him home, she’d told Tony and May that there was the possibility of Peter getting depressed. Sadly, that wasn’t something new, May had told them. Losing his parents at a young age, thinking he was a burden to her and Ben because they’d never wanted kids, losing his uncle – they had all left their marks.

But she said this time was different. He’d only left his room if he had to go to school, barely ate anything, claiming that he wasn’t hungry, that his metabolism wasn’t so fast anymore and therefore he didn’t need so much food. Messages were sparsely answered, calls mostly rejected, and he had even canceled their lab session. Peter took a lot of _naps_ and had a lot of _homework_ to do, but they all knew he was lying. Ned had called May, voicing his concerns about his best friend. And Peter was pulling away from May, too, which was a first and it broke her heart.

Tony didn’t know what to do. Whenever he and Peter had talked about anything to do with emotions, it almost always involves a lot of misunderstandings, crying, and both of them getting angry at some point. Not necessarily in that order. But Tony didn’t even have the chance to have a terrible talk with him, because Peter was avoiding him, and he just couldn’t figure out why. Had he done something? Had he said something? Was it because Barton showed up in his apartment last week?

“I don’t know what to do, Pep,” Tony confessed. “I hate to see him like this, I hate that he’s so unhappy, and I would do anything to change that, but I just don’t know what to do.”

“I think most parents don’t know what to do.” Instead of laughing, Tony grimaced. He was Peter’s parent. And now he was Mr. Stark again. It felt wrong. It felt like such a monumental failure. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Just trust your instincts.”

“My instincts tell me to lock myself in the lab and not go out anymore.”

“No, that’s just your bad habits telling you to hide. What do you _really_ want to do?”

Tony almost said _lock myself in the lab and not go out anymore _a second time, but stopped himself. No, he didn’t really want to do that. He wanted Peter to be happy again. He wanted to hear his carefree laugh and his corny jokes. He wanted him to know that Tony would always be there for him, no matter what was happening.

“I want him to talk to me.”

“Then talk to him.”

“I tried. Multiple times. And he never wants to talk to me.”

“And you gave in because you don’t want to make him angry.” Tony wanted to protest, but he realized he couldn’t. Pepper was right. He’d never pushed the boy, because he feared it would drive him away. “Sometimes, people need a little push. Just think about all the times I had to force you to do something.”

“I never listened to you.”

“Yes, you did. With a lot of complaining, but you did.”

“Yeah, okay, but I always hated it.”

“But it turned out alright anyway, didn’t it?” She gave him that little smile that he loved so much. “I know you’re scared that you’ll mess up. But, in my opinion, you’re already messing up by not talking to him.”

Hearing Pepper say that he messed up hurt, yet at the same time, he knew she was right. “I don’t even know what to say. Or how to get him to talk to me”

“You know him better than you think. You’ll know what to say or do to get him to open up. And, sometimes, you don’t even have to say anything at all. Sometimes, it’s enough if you just know that someone is beside you.”

Tony couldn’t help but stare at her. Suddenly, he remembered that he was going to marry Pepper. And he couldn’t wait for it. Hell, he would walk to the registry office and marry her right now, but he knew she would throw that really thick, carefully organized folder about their wedding at his head. He thought about the property he’d bought as a wedding present for her. A piece of land, big enough to have a private lake, far away from the city and all its chaos. A perfect place to raise a kid – one that was part him and part her. He couldn’t wait for it.

Leaning forward, he kissed her softly, hoping to convey everything he was feeling and couldn’t say into that kiss. “We should pick a date,” he said. “For the wedding. An actual, serious, no decoy-date one. No more putting it off.”

“_I_ wasn’t the one who put it off.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” He kissed her again, a quick peck this time. “But first, I have to check up on Peter.”

Pepper nodded. “Just be careful, alright? Keep a low profile.”

That was the other thing that was happening. Initially, they’d hope that the media hype about the mysterious boy Iron Man saved from the school would die down after a few days, and it did look like it. But then, a video had been released. It showed Iron Man arriving at the cafeteria, looking at the boy on the ground, firing at the criminal, and taking off again. Tony had been absolutely furious when he found out, having a very screaming-heavy conversation with Midtown’s principal over the phone. Apparently, the video had been leaked by one of the student’s siblings, but the billionaire couldn’t care less. The video showed Peter’s face, a good shot on top of it. The media had gladly eaten it up, spinning one theory after the other, obviously frustrated that they didn’t get more details.

Which was the problem. Because, sometimes when the media feels like they don’t have a good story, they make one up. And Tony had enough experiences with the press to know it was only a matter of time before they come up with the really nasty and disgusting stuff. He’d rather avoid being labeled as the sugar daddy of his own son, especially for Peter’s benefit. He didn’t need that kind of drama right now. Tony had asked Pepper about suing all the media companies as a preventative action, but she only answered that that would be considered a threat and not help their cause, quite the contrary. 

Tony gave her a mock-hurt expression. “You say that like I can’t keep a low profile.”

“Do you actually want me to respond to that?” She deadpanned.

“I’ll let you know that I can be very inconspicuous and blend in. And to prove it to you, I’ll ride the subway.” Pepper laughed, and it was the most beautiful melody Tony had ever heard. “Yeah, laugh at me all you want, but I’m going to show you.”

“Okay, prove it to me. But make sure to bring your phone, so you can call Happy to pick you up when you’ll get lost.”

“Pep, they call me the genius of the millennia. How hard can it be to use public transportation?”

Half an hour later, Tony deeply regretted his decision. He had about twenty cars for a reason. But, granted, they were all not exactly subtle. And neither were his suits. The last thing he wanted was TMZ stalking him because they saw him driving to Queens. So, he picked out a shirt he’d literally never worn before, put on some cheap sunglasses and a baseball cap – ignoring the memory of his jab against Rogers and his friends for doing the same disguise – grabbed a bag, and set off to his adventure. One that he, hopefully, never had to do again. Iron Man was brave, but not public transportation-brave.

God, he was so glad that neither Happy, Rhodey, or Pepper were here to call him out for being spoiled.

An absolutely unnecessary long amount of time later, Tony arrived at the apartment building of a certain Parker family. Before he could chicken out, he climbed all seven flights of stairs and knocked at the door. No answer. He knocked again – and again. Just when he was about to raise his hand for the fourth time, the door cracked open, barely wide enough for Peter’s head to peek through. On the inside, Tony was grimacing. Peter didn’t look good. Not necessarily pale or sick, but just not good. You could tell something wasn’t right.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a small voice.

Tony pointed to the bag. “I have a point to prove. Can I come in?”

A bit hesitant, the boy opened the door, letting Tony in. He noticed the way Peter’s shoulders were hunched, how he was trying to make himself as small as possible, and pulled on his sleeves, not meeting his eyes. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tony tried to act as if he didn’t pick up on all the small signals, those little details that make breathing a little bit harder, and strutted into Peter’s room, the boy trailing behind him.

Peter’s room had always been a place of total chaos. Tony liked to say it was a representation of his mind, thoughts and ideas scattered everywhere in no order anyone besides Peter could understand. But now, it looked kind of lost, unused. The only thing that fell out of the picture was the bed. Tony chose not to read too much into it, when Peter sat down on the bed again, like it was his safe place.

“Why are you here?”, Peter asked again.

“It came to my attention,” Tony announced, sitting down on one of the empty spaces of the floor, pulling his bag close, “that you’ve never asked me to build Legos with you. So, I’m here to prove to you that I’m more than capable of doing that.”

Peter stared at him as Tony fished out a Lego R2D2 model out of the bag. He’d originally planned to give it to him on his birthday, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “You … came here to build Legos?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, didn’t I?” He ripped the package open, and dumped all of the pieces on the floor.

“Have you ever done that before?” Tony could hear the skepticism in Peter’s voice, but his eyes were still trained on the hundreds of pieces of mostly white and blue Lego in front of him.

“No. But I build robots and revolutionary armors on a daily basis, how hard can it be?” He found the instructions, gave them one condescending look, and threw them over his shoulder. “Won’t need those.”

“You might want to keep them,” Peter commented.

“Have a little faith in me. I know how to build stuff. I don’t need instructions.”

Tony did need the instructions. Which was one of the most embarrassing things in his entire life. He was a mechanic, he had several PhDs, he built all day long! He knew how it was supposed to look like, thanks to Peter making him watch the movies uncountable times. But, somehow, it didn’t work. It had started off good enough. Now, halfway through, he didn’t have the pieces he needed anymore. Peter’s eyes were trained on him, obviously judging every move he made, but Tony refused to surrender.

“You’re stuck,” his son finally said.

“No.” He was. But he wasn’t going to admit it. Not after he’d pretentiously declared that he was good at building Lego models. His eyes landed on the shelves on the walls. “I just need a few more pieces.”

He was already reaching for the model, but Peter grabbed his arm. “You’re _not_ destroying the Millennium Falcon!”

“C’mon, I don’t even need _that_ many.”

“They’re the wrong color.”

“Then our little druid will have a few artistic differences, it won’t matter.” Tony tried to get out of his grab. It didn’t work. Quite the opposite, actually. Apparently, Peter took his Lego sets very seriously.

“No. You should’ve used the manual.”

Tony raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. “Oh, you think you can do it better?”

“I have more experience than you, at least.”

“Then show me.” Peter stilled, not letting go of Tony’s arm. This was a crucial point, Tony knew that. He’d hoped that the Legos would elicit Peter out of his shell, to get him to let his guard down at least somewhat. Granted, his little failure hadn’t been part of the plan, but it worked just fine.

To his relief, Peter accepted the challenge. Slowly, he let go of his arm and slid down from the bed to the floor. His eyes were on the little pieces of plastic as he systematically began to disassemble the half-finished druid, and then put it back together. For a second, Tony could only stare. It was more than obvious that this was something Peter was used to doing. His hands moved on his own, skillfully separating the pieces and clicking them back together. Somehow, it reminded Tony of Peter working in the lab.

For a few minutes, he just watched Peter work – doing way, _way_ better than the mechanic. Then, Tony scraped together every ounce of courage in his body. He needed to do this. For Peter, for his son. Pepper was right – just like always. Not talking about it at all was way worse than not talking about it badly. He took a look at Peter, at the way his hair stuck out in every direction because he hadn’t brushed it in days, at the unfamiliar glasses sitting on his nose, at the oversized hoodie that swallowed him, at the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly hollowed cheeks. His heart ached. He wanted his boy to be happy so badly.

“Please talk to me, Peter,” he said, barely louder than a whisper.

Peter stilled immediately. His entire body went rigid, as if someone had paused a movie. Tony wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. He waited. It seemed like an eternity passed before Peter answered. “I am talking to you.”

“You know what I mean.” Peter glances up at him, looking over the rim of his glasses, before his gaze snapped back to the model between his hands. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

The boy was – of course – brushing all of his concerns away. “Everything is fine. Don’t worry.”

“But I do worry. We all do. And nothing is fine.” Peter gave no indication that he’d heard Tony, still focused on the Legos. He wasn’t building anymore, though, simply fiddling with the pieces. Tony waited a few heart beats, because maybe he was just thinking of a good way to tell him what was going on. But Peter kept silent. “I know this isn’t an easy situation. If someone took my suit, I would-“

“It’s not-“ Peter started, but stopped. His pulled his eyebrows together, probably angry at himself that he’d said anything at all.

“It’s not what?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” And then, as an afterthought and very quiet, he added: “I’m alive.”

Suddenly, Tony understood what this was about. Maybe not everything, but he knew where the problem started. “You’re alive, so you’re not allowed to miss what you’ve lost?” Peter didn’t say anything, and Tony knew that it was a yes. He’d lost his parents, he’d held his uncle as he’d died, he knew death better than most. And now he was feeling guilty because he was sad while not being dead. “Peter, you can do both. Be happy that you’re alive, and sad that you don’t have your powers anymore.”

“I shouldn’t even have powers,” Peter continued. Slowly, he started building again, probably to distract himself. A part of Tony wanted to take the toy away, but he feared that Peter would clam up if he didn’t have the familiar building pieces in his hands anymore. “This is what I’m supposed to be. I can’t complain about losing something that I shouldn’t even have in the first place. I just got too used to being something special, that’s why it’s hard.”

“You _are_ something special.”

“Not anymore.” Tony’s heart exploded into a gazillion tiny pieces, cutting him from the inside. But before he could say how wrong Peter was, the boy continued. “Losing my powers isn’t like someone taking your suit from you. Because the suit didn’t give me powers, it just hid my identity. This is- … it’s like having no hands anymore. Completely useless.”

For a second, Tony imagined what it would be like if he suddenly lost his hands. He couldn’t really imagine it, and a part of him didn’t even want to. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” For the first time since, Peter looked him into his eyes. They’re welling up, and Tony wanted to do nothing more than hug the boy, but he felt strangely paralyzed. “I can’t hear properly. I can’t see shit. All my allergies are back, I can’t even walk up the stairs to the apartment without taking a break. It’s like… like I’m in this bubble now. Like everyone experiences life in its fullest, and I only get the watered-down version. It never bothered me before, because I just didn’t know it could be different.” Peter angrily wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes, almost knocking his glasses from his face in the process. “Spider-Man was the only good thing about me, and he’s gone now. I thought that I could maybe make it work if I changed up the suit, that I could still do something meaningful, be someone. But I can’t. I missed. Spider-Man never misses. But Peter does, and Peter is useless.”

Tony could tell Peter was spiraling. Hell, Tony himself was spiraling because he just didn’t know what to say. He needed to say something, he needed Peter to understand that Spider-Man wasn’t more important than Peter Parker. “No. No, that’s _not_ true. You hear me? Not true. The thing that makes Spider-Man so special isn’t that he’s got perfect vision or super hearing or whatever. It’s that he can never just stand by and watch when something bad is happening. It’s his drive to help, no matter how big or small, to look out for the small people. And that is 100%, utterly Peter Parker. Without it, he would just be a sticky dude in a cool suit.”

Peter’s gaze was back on the half-finished R2D2 on the ground. For a second, he didn’t say anything, and Tony almost started to hope that maybe he actually got through to him. Almost. When Peter spoke again, his voice was full of pain. “But the people love Spider-Man. Ned says that Spider-Man is the coolest thing that has ever happened to him. And you only met me because of Spider-Man.”

Tony hesitated. The words laying on his tongue were heavy, and everything in him screamed to change the topic, to do something familiar and safe, to not expose himself in such a vulnerable way. He ignored all of it.

“Do you believe in fate?” Peter just blinked at him, not answering his question at all. Then, eventually, he shrugged. “I didn’t for most of my life. Thought it was entire bullshit, always rolled my eyes whenever someone talked about something being destined or fate wanting them to do something. But then… Afghanistan happened. I thought I would die, either in that cave or trying to escape. I mean, the odds were not in my favor at all. Somehow, I survived. And I couldn’t help but think that it was because the universe wasn’t finished with me, that I still had a job to do. So, I shut down the weapon department, and became Iron Man.” Tony took a moment to think about the last few years. The friends he’d made and lost. The pain he’d suffered. The people he could save and especially those he couldn’t. “I don’t know if I’m still on the right path. I know that not everything I’ve done had been right, I made mistakes. But as long as I live, I try to help as much as I can.”

He’d never said these words out loud. Not to Pepper or Rhodey, not to any of the Avengers when they’d still been a team. It always sounded so self-aggrandizing when someone said that destiny wants them to do something, almost like a typical super-villain. But Tony didn’t feel self-aggrandizing when he thinks about this. He feels burdened, restless, and so, so guilty. Like he has a debt to pay back, and the universe was collecting it. No one had ever bothered to tell him how big that debt was.

But it did change his view on destiny, and while it mostly felt like a burden, there were a few benefits that let him believe what was happening in his life wasn’t all bad. “This is going to be corny, but I also mean it from the bottom of my heart when I say that I think we were destined to meet, one way or the other. You know about all the multiverse theories, right? Well, I think there isn’t one universe in which you and I don’t meet. And, according to the theories, there are infinite universes. In this one, we met because of Spider-Man, but that’s not why I spend time with you. And, no, it’s not because I’m your biological father and I feel obligated. Hanging out with you isn’t a chore or task for me. In fact, it’s my reward. You should ask Pepper about it. You won’t believe how often she got me to do something I didn’t want to do because she threatened to cancel our playdates.”

Peter just stared at him, non-blinking, like his brain was still processing what he’d just heard. Tony waited. Not answering immediately wasn’t really bad – at least it was better than promptly rejecting everything Tony had just said. Eventually, he said: “But I’m not cool.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And who exactly is cool, huh?”

“You are.”

Tony’s heart melted a little bit. Didn’t every parent want to hear that their kids think they’re cool? “Why is that? Because I have money? Because I have expensive things? Let me tell you something that took me a long time to realize: material things are just that. Materials. They’re status symbols. Something people buy to cover up the whole inside of them. What really counts are the people around you, the relationships you build. I would give up all my money, would throw away all my stuff, if it means that I can still be around the people I love.”

Peter stared at him, his face scrunched up a bit. “That’s not- You’re not cool because of your money.”

“Then why?”

“Because you’re… you. Tony Stark. Genius and superhero.”

“So are you, Peter. You’re so, so smart. Mind-blowingly smart. And we’re already established that you’re the real superhero. There’s no Spider-Man without Peter Parker.”

Peter still wasn’t convinced, Tony could tell by the way he was avoiding his eyes again. And Tony knew what he had to say. Until now, those words had always been as heavy as lead, unable to get over his lips. He’d preferred it to be an unspoken thing, something that was just understood and agreed upon. But he needed to say them, because Peter needed to _hear_ them. He needed to understand.

Tony sniffed, forcing himself to keep his gaze on the boy. “I love you, kiddo.” Peter’s eyes snapped to him, big and wide and full of something Tony didn’t want to think about. “Every version of you. The one where you can sleepwalk on the ceiling, the one with big glasses and an inhaler in your pocket, and every other version. Just pure, unconditional love, no requirements whatsoever. There’s pretty much nothing – no, scratch that, there’s definitely nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. Nothing. Nada. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Tony meant it. He would kill, die, and live for Peter. If Peter wanted the stars, Tony would pluck them one by one from the canopy and give them to him, even if it made the world a darker place. The world should really be grateful that the boy had a heart of gold and didn’t want anyone to be harmed, or else humankind would be screwed. Tony knew that he should be concerned about his acceptance that there were no boundaries to what he would do, but he wasn’t. Because it was true. If Peter wanted the world, Tony would do everything he could to give it to him.

The boy looked at him, full of disbelief. Then, a single tear rolled down his cheek, that was quickly followed by other ones. Tony didn’t wait for a single second before moving over to him, ignoring the way his old knees ached from sitting so long in the same position on the floor, and enveloped his son a fierce hug. Maybe he could squeeze all the sadness and grief and pain out of him, making enough space for the love the people around him were trying to give to him.

Peter started to sob, clinging to his shirt. “I-I don’t hear your heart anymore,” he somehow got out between sobs. “I used to hear it all the time and it always calmed me down, but now that’s gone. And so is May’s and Ned’s and everybody else’s and-and I want to be happy, and I really _try_ to be, I do, but I just- I feel so left out and _alone_ and-“ He couldn’t continue, his words turning into unintelligible sobs.

“You’re not alone,” Tony repeated over and over again, ignoring the way his heart broke for the millionth time in the last half an hour. “We’re all right here with you. Okay? You’ll never be alone, I promise.” After a while, Peter calmed down, and after wiping away a few stray tears from his face, Tony extended his bare wrist to him, pulse point upwards. “It’s not the same as hearing my heart, but there are other ways. So, whenever you think you need to know what my heart’s up to, just grab it. No questions asked.”

A bit tentatively, Peter grabbed his wrist, moving his fingers around until he found what he was looking for. This was something Tony could understand, the need to reassure himself that the people around them were doing okay, that their hearts were still beating, that there were _alive_. Tony couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times he’d woken up from a nightmare or had to calm himself down from an anxiety attack by looking at the vitals from Pepper, Rhodey, or Peter. Most people would probably think that it was crazy, but working in the superhero business made you cope in strange ways.

“I want you to be happy, Peter,” Tony said after a few minutes of silence. “We all want that. And we’re here for you. In the good and bad times. Please don’t think you have to be Spider-Man for any of us to love you, even if Ned is exaggerating and talking nonsense. I mean, we both know the best part of his life should be meeting me.” It got a watery laugh out of Peter, which the billionaire had hoped for. “But if you really think that you can’t be happy without Spider-Man, that you lost your hands… then I’ll build you a prosthesis. Hell, I’ll even suck up to Norman Osborn, in hopes of him sharing his illegal, radioactive spider projects.”

“You wouldn’t do that. You would hack into his system to find the files yourself.”

“Well, yeah, I would much rather do that, but for you, I would also be nice to Osborn.”

They both laughed at it, and Tony felt like half of the weight of the universe had been lifted from his shoulders. Then, in a quiet, but surprisingly steady voice, Peter said: “I love you, too, Dad.” Tony simply couldn’t keep the grin from spreading over his face, and, yes, maybe his eyes did water up. “Thank you.” Tony didn’t know what to say to that, so he just followed his instincts and kissed the crown of Peter’s head. “I just- … sometimes, I just get too caught up in my own head.”

“Oh, such a mood.” The teenager groaned like he always did when Tony spoke _internet_, like Happy called it. “Just remember that there’s always people willing to take you by the hand, and bust you out of there, okay?”

Peter nodded, before slowly letting go of his father. His hand on the wrist lingered for a moment, but, eventually, he pulled away, too. “I’m also really happy that the camera got approved, even though I couldn’t properly show it earlier.”

Tony thought about reminding him once more that he didn’t have to apologize for not feeling happy, but he decided against it. If they wanted to go back to normal, he needed to behave normal as well. “Well, I mean, they didn’t really have any other choice, did they? The camera is amazing, they would’ve been fools to reject it. Which, y’know, some of them are, but Pepper says it’s not polite when I tell them that.”

Peter cracked a smile. It was small, but it reached his eyes, and that was all Tony cared about. “And, uh, maybe we could actually celebrate? But not like, that big?”

Tony wanted to hit himself. What had he been thinking suggesting basically a dinner party when the boy had barely left his own room? No wonder he’d panicked. “Yeah, for sure. Who do you want to invite? I hope I’m on the list.”

He winked and Peter only rolled his eyes in an amused way. “Well, duh, someone has to pay for the food.”

“Wow. I see. I’ll tell you that I hang out because you’re the light of my life, and you’re only doing it because I’ll pay for the food. Unbelievable.” Peter chuckled, but before his mind could turn Tony’s words into something other than a playful jab, he continues. “So, who’s on the list?”

“You.” Tony gave him a fake, overly surprised expression, which Peter ignored. “May. And maybe Miss Potts, if she’s got the time? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

The billionaire smiled softly. He thought about the lake again, about Pepper and the kid that was half of both of them – but this time, Peter was right there with them. “I got a feeling she’ll make time for you. Now, before we’ll throw this party, we have to finish this druid, though.”

The day ended with Tony, Peter, May, and Pepper all huddled around the dinner table, boxes of take-out (cheap, greasy, unhealthy, absolutely non-fancy take-out) stacked in the middle of them. Pepper had brought Peter a souvenir from Barcelona, a cup that was cut in half and had _In Barcelona I Spent All My Money And Have Just Enough Left For ½ Cup_ written on it. May was almost in tears when she’d heard the news, asking Pepper – because Tony obviously had no clue – about what was going to happen next and so on. They toyed around with a few potential names, even though Pepper vetoed all of Tony’s suggestions. Tony had proudly presented the finished Lego model, bragging about building it without the manual.

No one forced Peter to take part in the conversation, and after a while, Peter threw in the occasional comment, even making a joke once or twice, which was a first step in the right direction. Three times, Tony felt Peter taking hold of his wrist, finding his pulse and holding it for a few seconds before letting go of it again. True to his promise, he didn’t ask why he grabbed it, what had triggered his need to reassure himself that Tony was still there and his heart was beating, even though the questions were almost burning him alive. May and Pepper, the angels, followed his example and ignored the small gesture and the way Peter always visibly relaxed when he did that.

At the end of the night when May hugged them goodbye, she whispered a soft thank you into Tony’s ear. In return, he just hugged her a bit tighter. Back in the car which Pepper had thankfully brought – Tony wasn’t ready for public transportation again for another few decades – he let go of a very deep, heavy sigh. The other half of the universe was pressing down on his shoulders again.

“I’m very proud of you,” Pepper said as she drove out of the parking spot. It wasn’t often that she was behind the wheel, mostly because Tony liked to drive, but right now he was too emotionally and mentally exhausted to drive, and no one of them wanted to crash. “Peter did seem a bit happier.”

“It’s only the beginning,” Tony mumbled. Which was true. Depression wasn’t something that just disappeared because you talked about it once. It was a long, difficult process, but Tony planned to be there for the whole ride. He meant it when he said Peter wasn’t alone. He was going to make sure that Peter would be happy again.

Tony had promised to build him a prosthesis, but maybe there was a way to get his real hands back. And Tony was ready to do whatever he needed to do to make it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line: If Peter wanted the stars, Tony would pluck them one by one from the canopy and give them to him, even if it made the world a darker place.  
I can't take all the credit for the line, because it was heavily influenced by the opening line of a song a friend of mine wrote. Roughly translated, it was something like this "I'll stay on my path, even if I have to walk over dead bodies. I'll reach for the stars, even if it makes the world a darker place." That just stuck with me, and I think it's so hauntingly beautiful and I think way too often about it, so I had to use it somehow. 
> 
> (I may or may not have that exact same Barcelona cup at home.)
> 
> (Also, if anyone has a good idea for a name for the camera, please share it. Because I'm all out of ideas :D )


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! :)
> 
> I rewrote this chapter again and again and again, and I still don't know if I'm perfectly happy with it, but it's the best I could do. 
> 
> Thanks to [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) who was my beta-reader. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

People often assumed that because Tony was a hot mess – which he totally was, he was the first one to admit it – his workshop would be a mess, too. But the truth was that his workshop was probably the only thing in his life that wasn’t messy. Not when he was working on a project, when he forgot when day turned into night and back into day, a never-ending circle – then the room resembled a waste disposal site more than a normal room, because whenever his mind was working as fast as it did when he builds and creates, there was no time for things like tidiness or cleaning up. He threw everything he didn’t need over his shoulder and let it sit there, the pile of junk getting higher and higher.

However, the second he had finished a project, Tony started to clean with an almost religious detailed order. He salvaged everything that could be useful from the junk-pile, threw out the rest – he even recycled it properly –, filed away the important parts of data in a new file, deleted the notes that were superfluous now, and actually swept the floor himself – unless he was on the clock, then he had DUM-E do it. He wasn’t quite sure where this little tic came from. Maybe he got it from Howard, maybe – no, most likely from his professor at MIT who would lock him in the lab until it was spotless. It sure as hell wasn’t genetic, because whenever Peter left the lab it was an absolute mess. There had been several times Tony had seriously considered banning him from his lab because of the state of chaos he’d left it in. But before he could ban Peter, he always used his Puppy Eyes on Tony and he always yielded.

Right now, the lab looked so much worse than it ever had before. You could barely see anything of the floor anymore, and the tiny patches you could see were just big enough to fit Tony’s feet. Even though it was the big lab at the compound, over two times the size of the one at the Tower, with the mess that was going on, the room felt cramped. Every single holo-screen that had been installed was projecting a different idea or concept. Some of them ran numbers, other had diagrams and statistics, there were several blueprints of weapons, of buildings, of spiders. From the outside, it looked like a complete mess, with seemingly no connection, like someone put random things on screens just for the sake of having something on the screens.

But this wasn’t a mess, it wasn’t senseless or random. It was Tony’s plan for Peter’s prosthesis – figuratively speaking, of course. He didn’t need new hands, he wanted (or maybe needed) his powers back. Everything in the lab was one of the ideas Tony had. The day after his heart-to-heart with his son, he told Pepper he’d be busy for a few days and kissed her on the cheek as she wished him good luck, and threatened to force him to eat and sleep if he wasn’t going to do it regularly. Working at the compound didn’t only mean that he had more space, but also less distraction. No SI business, no paparazzi, even no human distraction – which always sounded a bit harsh, but was also true.

Very quickly, Tony had run out of holo-screens to project all his ideas. He’d wheeled all the whiteboards there were in the building in his lab – it was quite a few – but, eventually, he’d run out of space again. That’s when the sticky notes happened, but the problem with them was that they’re just too damn small. So he took normal sized paper and stuck them together with the sticky notes, placing them on the floor because all his work benches were already full.

Now, three days later, with a total of six hours of sleep and running mostly on his drive to help his son and caffeine, all his ideas were finally in order. Tony had prioritized them, sorted them by efficiency and danger – for Peter, of course. Just in time, as well. Dressed in his battle suit, Tony stood among all his ideas, his eyes roaming over them once more, making sure he didn’t miss even the tiniest detail. It wasn’t his Iron Man suit, though he had been tempted to don it for the occasion. No, this was the suit he wore when he negotiated some of SI’s toughest deals. The suit he wore when he had to publicly answer all the questions about Sokovia. The one he wore when he had taken Pepper out on the date that had ended their break, the date in which he’d convinced her to give them another chance. The one he wore when he convinced the UN that Spider-Man didn’t need to sign the Accords just yet. The one he wore when May had screamed at him for dragging her – _their_ – boy to Germany, letting him fight against seasoned superheroes, and he’d convinced her that he still deserved a spot in Peter’s life after that. 

People often forgot that the Tony before Iron Man wasn’t just fooling around, doing whatever he wanted, and building weapons. He’d managed to uphold SI’s place on the market not simply by inventing fantastic things, but by being a seasoned businessman. It was absolutely true that Pepper was a way better businesswoman than he was, and Tony wasn’t even a little bit bitter about it. No, he was quite proud, actually. The reason why she was so good was because she managed to stay focused and liked being a CEO, she liked looking at endless numbers and making sense of them, liked making sure that everything worked like a well-oiled machine. Tony’s attention was often too split and limited, always being pulled back into his workshop, working on an idea in his mind rather than paying attention in a meeting about the newest numbers. So, maybe the term part-time businessman was more appropriate. But one that could hold his ground and negotiate and compromise and, most importantly, _win_.

And that was what he was going to do today. Be a businessman and win.

“What’s going on?” Tony will forever deny that he’d screeched, no matter what Rhodey said or what FRIDAY’s security footage showed. It was most likely tampered with, probably by Rhodey himself. The billionaire whirled around, seeing his best friend standing in the doorway of the lab. Oh no. This was not good. Not good at all. He hadn’t planned for this.

Rhodey’s eyes roamed over the lab, taking in the state of organized chaos, and looking at Tony – in his best suit, not the sweatpants and the semi-clean shirt he normally wore when he camped in his workshop. Being his roommate in college and his best friend for just as long, Rhodey knew Tony’s behavior in the lab. He knew that the more chaotic it was, the bigger the project was. “What the hell are you working on?”

Tony improvised, forgetting that he was notoriously bad at it. Maybe that trait was inheritable. It would explain why Peter was so bad at it, too.

“Honey bear, how sweet of you to stop by,” Tony said with his biggest, cheesiest smile on his face. Rhodey looked utterly unimpressed. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Pepper said you’ve gone all, and I quote, _mad-scientist and won’t talk to anyone who’s not a robot_, and I thought I’ll get a glimpse of that show.” Careful as to not step on his notes or move them even a fraction of an inch, Rhodey wandered deeper into the room. “Have to say, I’m a bit disappointed, though.” He nodded to Tony’s suit. “You seem to be done.”

“Yeah, that’s right, totally done, and it was a fail. Completely wasted my time on this thing. I don’t even want to talk about it, like, seriously. I feel so discouraged. I’m heartbroken. All my dreams are destroyed. Burned to ashes. Do you think I should change professions? Maybe just work at a Baskin-Robbins, what do you think? Doesn’t matter, I’ll send them my application anyway. Hey, we should totally do something to cheer me up! How about you come back tomorrow, after I cleaned up this entire, useless, totally boring and unimportant mess, and we fly around in our suits and give the senate a few more grey hairs?”

Rhodey didn’t even pretend to listen to his ramblings. Instead, he took a closer look at all the diagrams, papers, the entire mess that was the lab and Tony’s fancy suit. “Doesn’t look finished to me.”

“Oh, believe me, it is. Now, what about my plan? I think it’s more of a full day plan, so we should totally start tomorrow. Go home, sleep a lot and–“

“Are those blueprints labeled _Osborn’s secret lab_?”

Shit. He forgot about that. “No, they’re not.”

Rhodey kept ignoring him. He pointed to the screen next to it. “And that’s OsCorp’s building in Queens. With all possible entry points marked red.”

Tony tried to shrug it off while simultaneously pushing his friend out of the lab. “Yeah, I thought about turning the Tower in a distasteful building, and I thought it would be a good model. A true paragon of bad design.”

Rhodey’s eyes kept sweeping across the mess, took in the holographic spider, the medical charts, the lists of side effects of radiation, the prices of uranium – legally purchased and on the black market. Finally, he looked at Tony, who felt like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Stupid research that’s absolutely unimportant? Yeah, it is.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Tony. Spill the tea.”

For a heartbeat, Tony could only stare. “Did you just say spill the tea? When did you learn that? Did Peter teach you? Do you try to make War Machine more hip and cool for the kids?”

“As if you’ve never said it. In fact, you use it all the time, especially when you’ve been hanging out with Peter.” Rhodey walked over to him, his leg braces making soft sounds with every step. In the tense silence, they were unusually loud. “Tones, did you try to recreate a radioactive spider?”

“No, platypus, I didn’t.” That wasn’t even a lie. Or a complete lie. He wasn’t trying to recreate a radioactive spider – _yet_. “Now, what about our fantastic plan to come back tomorrow?”

“Why do you want to get rid of me?” Rhodey crossed his arms over a chest, his face pulled in a grimace that Tony was all too familiar with. It usually meant he was looking right through all of his bullshit lies.

That, of course, didn’t stop Tony from trying to keep lying. “I don’t.”

“Uh-huh. Then why do you want me to leave so badly?”

“Told you, I think we should have a full day just for ourselves. What, you don’t want to mess with the government? Fine, we can have a spa day. Mani-pedi, massages, face scrubs, the fluffy robes – all of it!”

For a few agonizing heartbeats, the Colonel kept staring at Tony. There was an expression Peter always used whenever he had trouble figuring something out. _I only have one brain cell that I share with Ned, and it’s his turn_. Tony never understood why the boy was so fond of it, but right now, Tony could understand. Because he felt like he had only brain cell which was currently used by someone else. Probably DUM-E. That seemed appropriate.

“You’ve invited someone over,” Rhodey eventually deduced.

_Think, Tony, think! You’re a genius! You can function without your brain cell!_ “You caught me. I did invite someone over. Because I’m cheating on Pepper. Don’t tell her.”

Not a single muscle moved on Rhodey’s face, and for a second, Tony thought his friend actually believed him. Then: “Really? You could’ve told me any lie, _any lie at all_, and you chose the one that’s the least likely?”

“What do you mean? Did you forget what I did during college? Or after college? For, like, years. It’s totally believable.”

“No, it’s not. You may be stupid, but you’re not _that_ stupid.” If it had been any other situation, Tony would’ve been quite happy that Rhodey had so much faith in him, that he knew him well enough to immediately see through this particular lie. But it wasn’t a different situation, and Tony’s mind was racing to come up with a better plan.

Just then, FRIDAY’s voice rang out. “_Boss_,” she said, and for a split second, Tony was relieved. His loyal, trustworthy AI would surely be on his side. She had to be. “_Your guests just entered the building_.”

Or maybe she wasn’t.

Rhodey’s eyes twitched a bit and he cocked his head a bit. It was his signature _Tony, what the hell is going_ on look. “Guest_s_? As in plural? More than one?”

Tony still couldn’t think of a good excuse. He panicked. “It’s an orgy,” he blurred out. He didn’t even sound convincing in his own ears.

Rhodey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, probably wondering why he was still spending time with him. “FRIDAY, who are the guests?”

Before Tony could order her not to answer, she was surprisingly quick at answering. “Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Sam Wilson.”

Time froze while Tony waited for Rhodey’s reaction. “FRIDAY, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Tony said as his friend just kept staring at him.

“_Boss, you programmed me not only to assist you, but to look out for your safety and health. Therefore, I deem it important that Colonel Rhodes is aware of the identity of your guests_.”

Stupid AI caring about him and making everything so much more difficult.

Rhodey found his voice again. He sounded surprisingly calm when he said: “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“In my defense, I did try to get you to leave.”

“What on earth are you thinking?” Slowly but steadily, Rhodey got louder. “Giving them access to the compound? Inviting them here? Talking to them? You know, whenever the media said that you’ve got a death wish, I never believed it, ‘cause you just like to mess around. But now I’m seriously reconsidering my position!”

“Platypus–“

“Don’t! Why would you _ever_ want to talk to Rogers again, Tony?”

Tony had told two people what happened in Siberia: Rhodey and Pepper. Back in that bunker, he’d thought about just… not doing anything. Just laying in that secret, secluded bunker in that freezing cold with a non-functioning suit and severe injuries. He’d been so tired, like he never had been before. What’s the point in getting back up when his friends just knock you down again? Friends, who he’d fought besides, who he’d lived and laughed with, considered his family – and who lied to him about his parents’ deaths, who protected their murderer, and who rammed a shield into his chest.

In the end, Tony made the best decision he’d ever made in his entire life – he got up. And he thanked a god he didn’t believe in that he did, because otherwise he would’ve missed everything that had followed. While the arc reactor in his chest and therefore the suit’s primary source of energy had been destroyed, the emergency solar panels had miraculously been left untouched, and it had turned out that the sun does shine in Siberia. As soon as he’d had enough power, he’d sent a quick message to the War Machine suit, both suits having a special messaging system that allows them easier and safer (and conveniently more energy efficient) communication.

Hours later – hours in which Tony had tried to keep his thoughts from straying, from returning to the events that had just happened a few hours prior – a quinjet had landed in front of him. Too focused on getting inside the jet with as little pain as possible, Tony had only noticed Pepper when she’d been right in front of him and pulled him against her chest, not letting him go for a long time. There had been tears from both of them, but Tony hadn’t been able to tell where his had ended and hers had started. In the jet on the way back home, after Pepper had helped him take off the damaged suit and cleaned his wounds as good as she could, the words had spilled out of his mouth like vomit, like he physically couldn’t keep them in anymore. Pepper had just held him close. Their relationship hadn’t restarted after that, but that had been the point when Tony had realized that he simply didn’t not want Pepper in his life and would do anything he could to assure that she would stay at his side.

Rhodey had pretty much demanded answers as soon as Tony had shuffled into his hospital room. And maybe because he’d still been tired or because it had been Rhodey, his best friend since MIT, who told him when he was stupid to his face and not behind his back, who didn’t ram a shield in his chest or keep secrets about his parents’ death from him, Tony had just told him. Though, that time there hadn’t been any tears. Just a hollow, pressing kind of tiredness that had seeped in his bones and hadn’t completely left since.

Neither Pepper nor Rhodey were big fans of Steve Rogers anymore. They changed the news channel whenever something about the Rogues – as the news had dubbed Rogers and his friends – came on. Tony working on the Accords, knowing that it also meant working on getting a potential pardon for the Rogues, was something that they don’t really approved, but because the Accords needed amendments and because it was nearly impossible to talk Tony out of something, they didn’t stop him either.

Which was exactly why Tony didn’t want either of them finding out what he had planned.

“Well, I don’t want to catch up with him,” Tony joked, hoping to ease some of the tension away.

“Does Pepper know? Does she know that her stupid, idiotic dunce of a fiancée is meeting with the man who tried to kill him?”

“If he’d wanted to kill me, he would’ve rammed that shield in my neck, not my chest.” It wasn’t a good point. Not a good one at all. In fact, it was a terrible one. But if Tony wanted to get through this meeting without exploding the second he saw them, he needed at least the hope that Rogers didn’t really want him dead.

For a moment, Rhodey looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped. His mouth closed, his eyes danced over Tony’s face before flying over the holograms again and back to him. Somehow, Tony managed to suppress a sigh. Rhodey had figured it out. “Is this because of Peter?”

Tony didn’t know if he should answer. It felt like a rhetorical question, because of course it was for Peter.

Apparently, it wasn’t a rhetorical question, because Rhodey clearly expected an answer. Knowing that there’s no way out of explaining everything, Tony took a deep breath. “FRI, please tell my guests to wait a few minutes for me, okay? Just tell them to stay wherever they are at right now.” FRIDAY gave a short affirmation that he barely registered. “Peter is not doing well.” The look on the man’s face turned from furious to concerned in less than a heartbeat. “Mentally, I mean. Physically he’s fine. Besides from all his allergies and hay fever that make him carry at least two boxes of tissues with him wherever he goes. But losing his powers hit him harder than I expected. Way harder. And… I want to fix it. I _need_ to fix it. I just… can’t see him in so much pain.”

A part of him thought Rhodey wouldn’t understand. After all, a part of Tony still couldn’t fully understand the length he was willing to go to ensure Peter’s happiness. Sure, he’d told Peter he loved and that he would do anything for him, and that was absolutely true, but it still wasn’t an easy concept to understand. To really understand _limitless_.

Tony couldn’t say what he looked like, but Rhodey seemed to understand it. Or, at least, accept it. “Why Rogers, then?”

“I brainstormed,” Tony answered, nodding to all the ideas that were scattered around the room. “I thought of every possible way to give Peter his powers back.”

“The radioactive spider from OsCorp,” Rhodey threw in, finally understanding everything that was pictured on the screens.

“Yeah, that’s one idea. I sorted them, trying to find the safest option.”

“And another spider isn’t it?”

Tony shook his head. “Too many variables. I don’t know what breed of spiders they used, I don’t know if that specific spider that bit Peter had any other mutations nobody was aware of, I don’t know their formula, I don’t know if they did anything else to it. Peter barely made it through his first bite, and I don’t want to roll the dice when I don’t know everything in detail.”

“Then what’s the safest option?”

With a flicker of his wrist, he pulled one of the holo-screens closer, displaying the weapon Barrett had shot Peter with. “The safest one is to reverse engineer the weapon, find out what setting he used, and find a treatment to reverse the effect, hopefully awakening his spider DNA in doing so, or absorbing any bits that are left from the alien energy and may be blocking the DNA. I can make an exact replica of the weapon, thanks to FRIDAY’s scans, but the problem is the energy core. It’s not from earth, and FRIDAY couldn’t find anything similar to it in any of our databases.” He started to pace, needing his body to work as fast—maybe not _as_ fast because that’s almost impossible, but at least faster than it had been—as his mind. “I need that weapon. Barrett has that weapon. And that bastard was somehow able to completely disappear from the face of the earth. FRIDAY is looking for him non-stop, but she finds nothing. As if cameras can’t see him. I don’t know where he is or where he’s going to be.” Tony stopped, turning to look at his friend, his word serious. “Rogers knew that he was going to be at Peter’s school. They watched him long enough to establish a pattern.”

He couldn’t say the actual words _I need their help_, but the message was clear. If he wanted to fix Peter’s powers as fast and as safely as possible, he needed their help. And what was his own discomfort of having those three in the compound for a bit if he could get Peter’s happy smile in return?

For what felt like an eternity, Rhodey only stared at him. Not necessarily in confusion, because Tony could see that he understood. He understood it, but that didn’t mean he liked it. “Does Peter know you’re doing this?”

Almost subconsciously, Tony straightened his back. “No. And I don’t see why he should know.”

“Maybe he won’t want his powers back if it means you have to do this.”

Tony scoffed, but it was humorless and kind of cold. “He’ll probably be delighted that Captain America is involved. He’s a fan, y’know?”

Rhodey didn’t answer immediately, but a muscle around his left eye twitched. Eventually, he said: “When Peter was in the medbay, I had a chance to chat with his friend Ned. Bright boy, talks just as much as Peter.” Tony knew that, he’d met Ned a few times, but he didn’t know why this was so relevant right now. It sounded like Rhodey knew something that Tony didn’t, and he didn’t like it at all. But before he could ask, Rhodey continued. “Why do you think they’ll help you?”

“Because I have enough leverage. Especially after the last stunt they pulled.” Rhodey raised a questioning eyebrow. Tony could feel his blood boiling in his veins just thinking about it. “Yeah, Nat decided to find out more about Peter. So, she sent Clint. I found him in Peter’s apartment, pointing an arrow at him.”

The colonel didn’t even blink, just stared at him. “And you didn’t call me to help you bury the body?”

“I didn’t bury a body.”

“Cremated, then?”

Despite his mood, Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Clint is not dead, Rhodey.”

“Do you actively try to sound more and more stupid with every word you say, or do you just want me to lose my shit?”

“Neither.” Rhodey looked unimpressed. “I mean it this time.”

“Then how come Barton isn’t dead and buried six feet under when he broke into your son’s home and threatened him?”

“Because,” Tony said, dragging the word long, “if he were dead, Nat would start digging. For his body, and for information about Peter. And if I had to choose between Nat or Clint having a look into Peter, I would always go for Clint. Besides, I installed cameras in the apartment that get activated as soon as someone breaks in. I caught every word of what he said, and that’s enough to have Nat agree to whatever I say. Probably. I’m sixty percent sure.”

Rhodey kept staring, and if Tony hadn’t known him – and this particular stare – for decades, he would’ve been nervous. Trusting Clint was a very risky move, and Tony didn’t really like that he took that gamble. Back then, telling Clint everything about Peter had felt like a free fall, and with every passing day, it felt more and more like he forgot to install a parachute. But a part of him just hoped that the archer would understand what Tony had done, would understand the need of a father to keep his son safe. Clint was a father himself, after all, and maybe there was some kind of secret brotherhood – a father-brotherhood – or a secret code that would bound him to secrecy. Tony had absolutely no way of knowing it Barton kept his word, and didn’t tell Natasha anything about Peter. However, she hadn’t shown up at the Tower or at the Parker apartment, so maybe he did keep his word.

And if push comes to shove, he still had that video that would put Barton in prison long enough to never see his kids again.

“You’re seriously deluded if you think I’ll let you talk to them by yourself,” Rhodey said, and pulled Tony out of his thoughts.

“Honeybear, it’s so sweet how much you care for me, but I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t. You have no sense of self-preservation nor any impulse control. It’ll end in a disaster.”

Rhodey would be right, but for very different reasons.

Tony, blissfully unaware of what was going to happen, just rolled his eyes and started to walk out of the door, already accepting the fact that Rhodey was going to be by his side for this. And, frankly, it lifted some of the heavy burden off his chest. “C’mon, do you know in how many meetings I’ve been?”

“Yeah, and should I call Pepper and ask her how many of those meetings went well?”

“Fair point.” Rhodey snorted, but Tony could feel the tension radiating off him as he walked next to him. For a few paces, they were silent, making their way to where FRIDAY told them the three guests were waiting. Absentmindedly, Tony put on orange-tinted glasses, straightened his tie, and adjusted the cuff links. If Pepper were here, she would point out that he always did that before important meetings. “Just… keep it cool, okay? Play nice.” Rhodey raised a skeptical eyebrow. It wasn’t fair that he was so good at that. “I didn’t tell them to come here just so I, or _we_, can yell at them. I actually need something from them.”

“I know,” he answered, voice a lot softer than Tony had anticipated. “I don’t like seeing a sad Peter, either.”

The three ex-Avengers were waiting in the kitchen, out of all places. Tony had half expected them to make themselves coffee, get something to eat or something along those lines, something that would indicate that they didn’t think of themselves as guests in this building – but they didn’t. They stood in front of the counter, looking more than a bit tense. Except for Natasha. Leaning with her hip against the kitchen isle, inspecting her nails out of boredom, she looked as relaxed as one could be. But given her training, that wasn’t really surprising.

As they came closer, the three stood up a bit straighter – well, Nat lowered her hand, which was as much as they would probably get from her – and were clearly surprised to see Rhodey, who stood almost too close to Tony. A lingering pain shot up his left arm, and there was some kind of phantom pain in his chest, the exact same spot good old Captain America had buried his shield in. He pushed all those thoughts out of his mind. For a second, they all just stood there, the big kitchen isle and heavy silence between them. Tony had mastered the art of the right use of silence a long time ago, unbeknown to a lot of people. He preferred to talk his opponents in the ground with a clever mix of snark and quips. Because of that, people got even more nervous when he was silent, which made it just more efficient.

Steve Rogers was the first one to break under the silence. “Tony, Rhodey,” he greeted them with an almost timid smile on his face, “thanks for the invitation.”

Following Tony’s example, Rhodey was silent, too. Wilson was the second one to break – Tony had anticipated as much. Silence may work on some people, but Natasha wasn’t one of them. She was an expert in silence herself. “Rhodey, it’s good to see you again,” Falcon said. “How are your legs?”

“Still paralyzed,” Rhodey answered, almost casually, but the three looked like they were all slapped across the face. Then, Rhodey went one step further and said: “And it’s Colonel Rhodes.” That comment hit Steve and Sam hard, both having served in the military.

Tony decided to step in before his friend could any snarkier – not that he wasn’t loving this, but he didn’t have time for this right now. “I called you here because I have an offer,” he explained, tone light and almost dismissive, as if the outcome of the meeting was irrelevant for him. “One which, frankly, you would be stupid to decline.”

Steve nodded. “What do you need our help with?”

His voice was friendly, open, ready to help – and Tony hated it. A part of him wanted Rogers to be angry, just like Tony was angry at him, wanted him to be snippy, so he could be snippy, too. Just one excuse to lose his temper and not seem unreasonable or resentful. But Steve kept calm, so Tony had to keep calm, too. “I want Barrett and his weapon. As fast as possible.”

The soldiers nodded again, this time in agreement, but Natasha kept staring at him. “What do we get?”

Suddenly, Tony was reminded who sent Clint after Peter. Who betrayed him at the airport by letting Rogers and Barnes go. Who vanished without any whispered good-bye. It took a lot from him to stay calm and say: “Nothing.”

“That’s not a fair deal,” Natasha pointed out.

“It is. Considering that the alternative is that I’ll let Ross, the military, and the UN know where you are. Or that I’ll stop lobbying for your pardon, which, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure if I should continue for at all. Especially after the last thing you did.” To give his words more meaning, he looked her right in the eyes, a small, almost predatory smirk on his face. “Oh, and it would also mean that the video of Barton breaking into an apartment, threatening a minor, and admitting to violating the terms of his deal for house arrest would be sent to the responsible officials. You think his kids would like visiting him in a high-facility prison once a year for his birthday?”

A darkness slipped over Natasha’s eyes, and she pushed herself off the counter, clearly ready to strike. Tony was hyper aware of his watch, and how long he needed to transform it into his gauntlet. But before either one of them could move, Steve stepped forward, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, that wasn’t… good,” he said diplomatically, his eyes trained on Natasha, “and not really discussed before-hand.”

“Well, good to know that nothing has changed and you still keep secrets from each other,” Tony snarked. He ignored the part of him that was glad he didn’t have to fight Natasha – at least not right now. And because he was ignoring it, he kept pushing, getting way more worked up about it than he’d planned. “By the way, did Barton tell you anything?” Her blank expression was all Tony needed that Clint had actually kept his word to him. “Yeah, doesn’t feel good when someone you trust stabs you in the back like that, does it?”

Natasha tilted her head a bit. Tony wasn’t sure if mentioning – and also threatening, yes – Clint had put a leash on her, or if he’d turned her into a shark that smelled blood and was circling its prey. He had a feeling it was the second one.

The tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“What do you want from Barrett?” Sam asked eventually, trying to move the topic back to the original one.

“The weapon,” Rhodey answered.

“The power core,” Tony corrected, eventually getting some of his hurt feelings back under control. “I don’t care about the weapon itself, as long as I get all the pretty shining stones in it.” Then, as an afterthought, he added: “And I want Barrett in jail. At least. And to punch him in the face. Or blast him. Probably both.”

“We want that, too,” Steve agreed, visibly relaxing. “Not the core, of course. You can have that for yourself.”

“And Barrett?”

Steve and Sam exchanged a look, having a silent conversation, before both soldiers turned back to Tony. “We have to take him with us.”

“Take him with you?” Rhodey echoed, a certain kind of disbelief in his voice. Steve nodded. “You do realize that the attack on the school was classified as an act of domestic terrorism and the FBI can’t wait to get their hands on him?”

“He stole from someone,” Sam explained. “They asked us to find him, and bring him to them.”

“And who are they, exactly?”

There was no answer. Of course, there was none. Tony had just threatened to turn them over, they wouldn’t give them the names of whoever was working with them.

“Okay,” Tony said instead, straightening his jacket, “I get the energy core and punch all his teeth out, and then you take him away to whoever wants to have him.”

The soldiers looked ready to take the deal – they didn’t have a lot of experience in negotiating deals – but Natasha shook her head. “No.”

“Nat-“ Steve started, while Sam looked at her a bit dumbfounded, but her eyes were trained on Tony, watching his every move.

“You never take the first offer they make you,” she explained. “Especially when it’s clearly not in your favor.”

“Not sending you to prison seems pretty much in favor to me,” Tony said, not liking at all that she had intervened.

“You invited us to come talk to you. You must be more desperate than you like to admit.”

That was very much true. But he wouldn’t admit it. If they knew how desperate he really was, they knew they could almost demand everything and he would give it to them. Beside him, Rhodey shifted his weight, probably guessing what he was thinking.

“What do you want, then?” Tony asked instead.

Natasha didn’t hesitate. “A full pardon without us signing the Accords and access to the compound.”

Rhodey snorted in a non-amusing kind of way, but Tony was too busy blinking at her in shock. “Are you joking? You _have_ to know that that is impossible.”

She just leant her head to one side, her expression blank. “And here I was, thinking you’re making the impossible possible.”

“No one will agree to something like that,” Tony argued. “Not the senate, not the UN, not _me_.”

“Then you’ll have to get the weapon yourself. Might take a while, though.”

It would take barely a second to activate his gauntlet. Less than a second to aim at her and shoot. She’d probably dodge and then attack, but he only needed to stall long enough for one of his suits to arrive, either encasing him or her. No, definitely her. He could lock her in and wait until Ross arrived.

Was that plan realistic? Not at all. Was it helpful to his mission to get Peter’s powers back? Never. Was it tuning down the urge to start screaming and throwing a fit? Yes.

Tony sniffed once and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “Okay, let’s say you do get what you want – a pardon, no Accords, the compound. Which means that no government organization will support you. What then? Who is going to pay your bills? Not the government, sure as hell not me, not SHIELD, not anyone. Who is going to pay for the damage that’s going to be caused on one of your missions? Who’s going to deal with all the legal stuff? No one will help the ones who claimed they are above laws or regulations.”

“Hold on a second,” Sam said, raising a hand in the air, “we never said we’re above the law.”

“Really? Were we having different conversations? Because I clearly remember you saying that the safest hands are your own.”

“_Boss-“_

“Mute, FRIDAY,” Tony ordered without thought, too deep into this to be distracted with anything else now.

“We’re not above the law,” Steve said, taking the chance of Tony having to draw a breath. “What we didn’t want was anyone deciding where we can and where we can’t go.”

“It isn’t just anyone, Steve, it’s the UN,” Rhodey explained in a voice that Tony knew meant he was slowly but constantly losing his patience. Tony was very well acquainted with it. “The organization that’s trying to establish world peace. It isn’t just one country having all the power.” Natasha was almost suspiciously quiet, and Tony couldn’t say if it was because she didn’t want to pick a side, or because she was still plotting his murder. The genius could feel a headache forming right behind his eyes.

“If we signed them, we wouldn’t have just given up our freedom of decision, we would’ve pushed away all the responsibility,” Sam threw in. “Eventually – not immediately, maybe not for a long while, but eventually – we would’ve just done the job, not caring about the damages or loss, because someone told us to do it, because someone else already takes responsibility for what happens. We would’ve been like puppets, only doing what we’ve been told and not thinking further than that. And what happens to people who don’t think ahead, who don’t care what happens around them? We’ve stopped enough of them to know it.”

“Who says you have to give it up? You can still stand in front of a crowd and say how sorry you are that you made a mistake. You can still come up with your own plan, one that’s better and safer for civilians. No one ever said we would be mindless puppets. But if you just enter a country without their permission and cause havoc, people won’t like it. And I’m not talking about any governments, I’m talking about the people you’re trying to protect.”

“Ross –“

“Ross is an asshole!” Tony exploded, because he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I know that! I see him on a weekly basis, and I know he has his own motives and that he’s lobbying to get them through, but this isn’t about Ross. It’s about exactly about the thing you’re so afraid of losing: responsibility. We can’t just go around and do whatever we want, claiming it’s for the greater good, the world – a peaceful world – doesn’t function like this. We-“ He stopped talking, because suddenly, the entire attention of the room shifted to something behind him. Annoyed about the distraction, whatever it was, Tony turned around, ready to scream at whoever interrupted them.

His heart dropped through his stomach, right into the ground, and for a solid five seconds, his heart forgot that it needed to beat.

Peter stood in the hallway. His hair was brushed back, but a few stubborn curls were sticking out. The black rimmed glasses made his eyes look bigger, and Tony could clearly see his gaze moving from one person to another. The tip of his nose was red, probably from his hay fever, his backpack still slung over one shoulder, and he wore a NASA shirt. 

Tony’s entire focus switched from arguing with his former teammates to a different, more urgent and more vital matter: keeping Peter safe. And safe did not mean anywhere near the three Rogues, especially when Natasha was out to murder him, and she knew that Peter was special to him. She’d sent Clint on him without being provoked, what would she do after he’d threatened her?

“What are you doing here?” Tony finally asked at the same time as Peter said in a nasal voice: “What’s going on?” Subconsciously, Tony moved so that he was between his son and the three fugitives. Rhodey moved, too, but the billionaire wasn’t sure if was also out of instinct or if he was just following his lead. 

After a moment, Peter’s eyes settle on Tony. “You invited me over.”

“I invited you over for the weekend,” Tony corrected.

Peter just stared at him. “It _is_ the weekend.”

“No, it’s not. It’s Thursday.”

“It’s Friday.”

A horrible, horrible feeling started to settle in Tony. It obviously wasn’t the first time he lost track of time while he was working in the lab, but he’d been so careful about this. He’d wanted to make absolutely sure that Peter wouldn’t come in contact with any of this – after this meeting, he’d planned to clean the lab, so the boy wouldn’t notice anything. But maybe, in his haste to get everything done before Peter showed up, he kind of lost track of 24 hours. “FRIDAY?”

“_It is indeed Friday, Boss_.”

Shit.

Suddenly, a thought struck him and he looked at Rhodey. His expression told him everything he needed to know. Rhodey had known that Tony had lost track of time. He’d known that Peter would come over, which was probably the reason why the colonel was here in the first place. Tony just couldn’t understand why. What was he playing?

He could figure that out later. Right now, he needed as much space as possible between his son and his guests. “Where’s Happy? He should drive you home.”

“Happy had to leave,” he answered, eyes fixed on the people behind Tony. He shifted again, so Peter was looking at his chest and nothing else.

Internally, the billionaire cursed. Right, he remembered that Happy had been complaining about a very cramped schedule on Friday, grumpily announcing that he only had time to _throw the kid out of the car_ before driving off again. “Peter, go wait–“ he couldn’t say the lab, because it was a mess, or his room, because that would raise more questions, “in my office and start on your homework.”

“I have no homework.”

“It’s the weekend. You always have homework on the weekend.”

Peter kept staring at him in a way that Tony couldn’t quite place, but his entire demeanor threw him off. His posture was upright, shoulders pulled back, head held high. It was such a contrast to the way he’d seen him the last time, that Tony almost doubted it was the same boy. It reminded him of Spider-Man, and if the situation wouldn’t be so serious, Tony would be happy about it. 

“I’m hungry,” Peter eventually said.

A part of Tony knew it was just a way for him to stay longer, to not go – but he couldn’t help but worry. What if Peter really was hungry? What if his fast metabolism came back? Tony had learned very fast that it was never good when Peter ignored the hunger that had seemed to be his permanent companion. “Didn’t you eat at school?”

“That was hours ago.”

“Fine, order something and then-“

“Pretty sure there’s something in the fridge,” Rhodey said, and Tony turned his head around so fast he almost got whiplash. What was he doing? Did he _want_ Peter to stay? While Rogers and his friends were here? Was he completely out of his mind?

“That’ll do,” Peter agreed, already on his way to move past Tony.

Which Tony, of course, didn’t let happen. He was in front of Peter before he could take his second step. For a moment, there was some kind of stare-off. Surprisingly, Peter wasn’t backing down. He was staring right back at him, almost daring him to say something. Which he couldn’t. Because if he did play the father-card or anything that was close to it, someone – especially Natasha – would pick up on it.

But letting him stay here? He didn’t like that idea at all. It wasn’t like he was afraid Peter would be disrespectful, he was probably the best mannered kid Tony knew, and he was a fan of the trio. Maybe he just wanted to get a look at Captain America? Maybe he would listen to Tony when he would tell him to leave again after he got his fanboy excitement out of the way?

Telling himself that he would let Peter stay for only a minute, Tony turned around, ignored all the staring, and walked over to the fridge, getting the first thing that caught his eye – a yogurt – and a spoon, making sure that he was always between the Rogues and his son. The room was filled with anticipated silence, everyone barely daring to draw a breath.

As Tony hold out the things for Peter to grab, his son’s hand hovered over his wrist for a second. A part of Tony was sure that the boy would grab his wrist, and find his pulse before letting go. But he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed the little tub and the spoon, but made no move to eat it.

For a moment that felt like an eternity, no one moved. Tony felt like uncomfortably nervous. He wanted Peter out of here, but he knew he couldn’t do that without causing a scene, which would most likely give away too much information. And he didn’t want that, not with the way the negotiations were going.

Steve was, once again, the first one to break the silence. “Hello Peter,” he said in a soft and placatory voice, “it’s good to see you again. I don’t know if you remember us, but-“

“I know who you are,” Peter answered, not exactly in a rude way, but not friendly either. In a move that Tony didn’t liked at all, he stepped past his father to look at the Rogues. Tony, accepting his temporary defeat, turned around, and fixed everyone with a firm gaze, almost daring them to do something risky and give him an excuse to call his suit. “You broke into our cafeteria. And I do your fitness challenge at least once a month. You taught me about Math, too.”

Tony didn’t understand that, but Steve apparently did, his cheeks turning a rosy color. “How’s your back?” Nat asked, which was a bit unexpected, giving that she’d been quiet for so long. 

“My back is fine.” Peter looked at Natasha, almost like sizing her up, but not quite, before continuing: “Which you probably know because you told your friend to break into my home.”

“I never told him to break in,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.

Tony was about to open his mouth and put an end to all of this, either by telling Peter or the Rogues to go, but the teenager had other ideas. “You were talking about the Accords.”

“You heard that?” Tony almost winced. He’d always made sure to not drag Peter into the mess that was the Sokovia Accords, not wanting to burden him with everything he had to put up with.

Peter scoffed. “The entire building heard you.”

“It’s… probably not a conversation we should be having right now,” Steve said, maybe sensing Tony’s mood or not wanting to fight in front of a child. “It is a very complex and difficult issue, and-“

“I read them,” he declared. “I studied them. Actually, my entire school did that. And no doubt, every other student in America, too. We discussed it a lot in class, and I had to write three essays on them. And we were having a debate.”

“Which side were you on?” Nat asked, making it sound like a casual question, even though it was anything but.

Peter just looked right at her, his entire posture tense. Tony really started to wonder where all his confidence was coming from. “The one that won.”

“You sound very educated about it,” Rhodey commented in that voice that Tony didn’t like. It made him feel like he was missing a crucial detail. 

“I am. But I do have one question that I never got an answer to until now.” Even though his eyes had never left the Rogues, Peter stopped, as if to make sure they were listening to them. “Why didn’t you sign?”

It was a simple question. One, that Tony had heard the answer to many times. They didn’t agree with them, didn’t want to give up the independence of the Avengers. But right now, the question felt different.

“We don’t want to be controlled by someone that might have an ulterior motive.” Surprisingly, it was Sam who answered. Tony had expected Steve to do it, maybe even Natasha, but they were both quiet.

“So, you don’t want anyone who may be stronger than you deciding what you do?” Nobody answered. They all could hear that Peter wasn’t done with his statement, but even Tony had no idea where this was going. He felt strangely paralyzed. This couldn’t be real. Peter was always polite. He started stuttering and being hyper-polite whenever he was around someone he admired. Now he was, for his standards, pretty rude. “You don’t want people to do whatever they want with you, but you expect everyone else to be okay with it?”

“That’s not what this is about,” Steve said, visibly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Yes, it is. The people of 117 nations basically told you they were scared because they don’t know what you’re going to do next and there were no rules, and you just dismissed it like it was nothing!”

“And how do you know what people were thinking?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, watching Peter with a gaze Tony hated.

“Because I talked to them.” That was a surprising answer. More surprising was the subtle, but definitely existing hiss in Peter’s voice. “We have some exchange students in our school. Not a lot, but a few from all over the world. And you can find hundreds of posts online. People were relieved when they heard about the Accords. Not because they hate the Avengers, but it makes them feel safer. It may be surprising for you, but an all-American task force that is absolutely unmatched and has no regulations at all, doing what they want and when they want, claiming it’s for the greater good, isn’t something that the rest of the world feels comfortable with.”

The spoon and the yogurt in Peter’s hand started to shake lightly. Tony laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down, but he just shook it off, actually stepping closer to the Rogues. The situation was getting out of hand, Tony knew that – knew that he should shut this down before it could escalate. Or escalate any further. But he couldn’t think right now. Peter was rarely getting angry. The only times the billionaire could think of were the brief moment after the Ferry Incident, and the night after his sensory overload. They had all happened because Peter had felt like he wasn’t listened to, but now everyone was listening, and yet he was getting more and more angry.

Tony also remembered Peter being angry right before Clint found out he was Spider-Man, but he couldn’t see the correlation right now. Or maybe he didn’t _want_ to see it.

“Would you still think the Accords aren’t needed if North Korea had a team like that? Or Russia? Would you still say that they shouldn’t be controlled by anyone?”

“The Accords aren’t perfect,” Steve argued. He wanted to go on, but Peter didn’t let him.

“No, they aren’t, and I never said they are. There’s a lot in there that needs to change, but you just brushed them away, not even considering negotiations, claiming that you know better. What do you think people think about that?”

“We still would’ve been controlled by other people. People have agendas, and they can change.”

Peter almost flinched. Tony was sure that, if he’d still had his super strength, he would’ve squashed the yogurt in his hands. Anger was radiating off him in waves, and Tony simply didn’t know how to deal with this. He looked to Rhodey for help, because maybe he knew how to deal with angry teenagers, but his friend seemed almost calm. Like he’d expected this.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Peter said, his voice low but strained. “People do change. But you should know that, right, Rogers?” Steve practically looked like he was bracing himself for something, taking in a deep breath and tightening his shoulders. Nat and Sam exchanged a quick look.

“Peter,” Tony breathed a warning, but he didn’t know how to continue.

Peter ignored him. Maybe he hadn’t even heard him at all. His entire body was shaking now, and when he continued, his voice getting louder and more venomous with every word. Tony had never heard his voice like that before. “You know about people changing their minds, don’t you? About them pretending to be your friend and then backstabbing you? Or maybe they’d rather ram things into their bodies, like you rammed your shield INTO MY FATHER’S CHEST!”

Tony couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even properly think. There was only one thought on his mind – one that terrified him and paralyzed his entire body: _Peter knew_.

Peter was breathing heavily, his shoulders raising and dropping way too fast. Steve looked shocked, Sam’s mouth was open, Natasha tilted her head to one side in curiosity, and Rhodey stood perfectly still. Nobody said a word.

Abruptly, Peter turned around, catching Tony’s eyes for a second. Tears welled up in them, face pulled into an angry grimace. Tony knew he should say something, _anything_. But he couldn’t. Because Peter knew about Siberia. Peter found out. How did he find out. Who told him? Then, before Tony could even come up with a single, productive, and non-panicky thought, the teenager stormed past him, into the hallway and out of sight.

Someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. That had to be the reason why Tony couldn’t breathe. His left arm started to hurt, as did his chest, but right now it was a welcoming pain. It was the only thing that kept him grounded, kept his thoughts from spiraling too much.

“Did he just say… _father_?”

That was Sam. Right. For half a second, Tony forgot there were other people in the room, too caught up in his panic. However, they were people who wanted answers. But he couldn’t talk right now – couldn’t even _think_ – with all the tension and pressure on him. It was suffocating him, each breath he drew felt like a monumental task. His heart thundered against his rib cage, a ringing in his ears that made him feel strangely disoriented.

In his need to ease it away, to cut through the tension and finally breathe again, he looked at Rhodey. He would understand. He always understood Tony’s coping mechanism better than he did himself. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he said: “Is this the part where I ground him for being a rebellious teenager?” It was meant as a joke, because Tony desperately needed it to make it better, like it always did, but that didn’t happen. It sounded too weak and frail for that. More like a plea. 

Rhodey didn’t joke. For a second, something like pity flashed over his face – or maybe it was something else. Tony had still trouble concentrating. “No,” his friend said calmly, “this is the part where you go after your kid and make sure he’s okay.”

Tony could feel three pairs of eyes staring holes in him, silently demanding answers. But they weren’t important, not now. Rhodey was right. Peter was his priority. He needed to make sure he was okay. Without even as much as looking at the Rogues, trusting that Rhodey would keep them busy, Tony turned around and started walking down the hallway.

The thought didn’t leave his head, though. Peter knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line: “And you didn’t call me to help you bury the body?”
> 
> This is pretty much the chapter in which we're all Rhodey and Peter. 
> 
> I know a lot of you are probably not happy that Tony talked to the Rogues, if your comments about on the chapter with Clint are anything to go by, but there are a few more reasons for him to behave this way. They will all be in the next chapter, and I deliberately didn't include them in this one, because I don't want the next chapter to be repetitive. 
> 
> I am Team Iron Man, especially because of all the reasons Peter said, but I didn't want this argument to be "we're right, you're wrong and stupid for thinking you're right". I like (most of) Team Cap and I do think they have valid points, which is why I wanted to make this balanced, but also needing it to go in the direction I wanted/needed. Like I said, I struggled with it. This is I could come up with, and I hope it's at least somewhat balanced.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! :)
> 
> Thanks so much for all your comments and reactions to the last chapter, I loved them all!! It also made writing this chapter so much easier. 
> 
> Once again, [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/) was my beta-reader, so thank you!
> 
> Enjoy :)

Tony had to stop twice on his way to Peter’s room. Once, because an anxiety attack threatened to overtook him, and the second time – not long after – because he almost threw up in the hallway, either because of his lack of sleep and food or because his anxiety was just trying really hard to get a hold of him. Somehow, he pushed through both, simply by envisioning his destination and the mission he was on.

Getting to Peter. Talking to Peter. Peter, who knew about Siberia. Who knew about his… Tony couldn’t think of a fitting word to describe it. Worst. Most painful. Lowest. Most traumatic. They all seemed fitting and yet not enough. There were no words in any of the seven languages he spoke to express that day, that moment in his life.

The moment Peter knew about.

Vomit was climbing up his throat again, but Tony willed it back down. There were more important things than food leaving his body the same way it entered it. 

How did Peter find out about it? Tony knew for certain that footage and the customary protocol of that fight was locked away, in a symbolic chest with seven locks, sealed, and dumped on the ground of the ocean. Which meant that someone had told him. And that someone had to be either Pepper or Rhodey. A sharp knife twisted in his heart, opening a gaping wound. They wouldn’t betray him like that. There was no way.

Then again, merely a little over a year ago, Tony had also thought that Steve would never betray him.

When he reached Peter’s door, it dawned on him that he had no clue what to say. What do parents do when their kid not only reveals their secret relationship but also screams at three of the most wanted fugitives in the world who could hurt them in less than a heartbeat? That particular situation was never covered in any of the chapters of all the parenting books he’d read. (And, yes, Tony had read a few. He liked to be prepared.)

But he also had no idea what to do because the entire outburst had been so unusual for Peter. Up until now, Tony could’ve sworn that the boy was completely incapable of so much anger and rage. Where did that come from? How long had it been boiling under the surface, just waiting to spill over? A part of him wanted to call May and ask her about whatever just happened and what to do (to be honest, it wouldn’t be the first time), but he had a feeling it was something he should figure out himself. May was the expert for most Peter-related things, but Tony was the one dealing with all the superhero-stuff. This fell into his category.

In front of Peter’s door, he hesitated for a second, bracing himself for whatever was going to happen next. Telling himself he wasn’t procrastinating, he said: “FRIDAY, Peter is in his room, right?” His feet had led him here without consulting his brain first. Which was probably a good choice. He didn’t know where he would’ve ended up if he had tried to think about it.

_“He is. He seems to be in distress.” _

Tony took a sharp inhale. Of course, Peter was in distress. Still, he just stood unmoving in front of the door, doubting his ability to comfort his son, even though he’d done it a few times before. But this was different. This weren’t self-esteem issues or nightmares or unspoken things that needed to be spoken about. This was Tony’s own failure he had to explain. “Do you think I should talk to him? Or rather give him time to calm down?”

_“According to my research, parenting advice often splits between comforting a child and giving them space to process in a similar situation.”_

Tony sincerely doubted that other parents had quite similar situations. “Yeah, I know that, FRI. We read those parenting books together. I’m asking for your opinion on the matter.”

For a second, the AI was silent, and the mechanic almost thought she’d delivered his question to Peter. “_I do believe that comforting Mr. Parker would be the right decision, Boss.”_

“Yeah, well, great minds think alike, right?”

_“You created me. It is obvious that we would have similar thinking patterns.” _

“Wow, way to warm someone’s heart.” FRIDAY didn’t answer, either because she didn’t know what to say or because she wanted him to stop procrastinating. Taking in a deep breath, Tony raised his hand to the door, but hesitated. Changing his mind at the last second, he forewent the knock, and simply opened the door.

Peter was pacing in his room, but when Tony stepped inside, his head snapped to him, absolutely not surprised to see him standing there. Or maybe a different emotion was just more prominent than surprise, that emotion being anger. Because, boy, was he angry. His hands were balled into white fists. On his cheeks were trails from tears, but his eyes behind the thick glasses weren’t red or wet anymore. Probably a few angry tears he hadn’t been able to hold in. His posture was rigid. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see the yogurt and the spoon on the desk, his bag next to the chair. In the background, very familiar voices were played from a recording.

_“-that’s better and safer for civilians. No one ever said we would be mindless puppets. But if you just enter a country without their permission and cause havoc, people won’t like it. And I’m not talking about any governments, I’m talking about the people you’re trying to protect.”_

_“Ross –“_

_“Ross is an asshole! I know that! I see him on a weekly basis, and I know he has his own motives and that he’s lobbying to get them through, but this isn’t about Ross. It’s about exactly about the thing you’re so afraid of losing: responsibility. We can’t just go around and do whatever we want, claiming it’s for the greater good, the world – a peaceful world – doesn’t function like this. We-…What are you doing here?” _

_“What’s going on?” _

“FRIDAY, stop it,” Tony ordered, and she complied.

The tension was so thick you could cut it. Peter wasn’t backing down, holding his gaze, standing tall and proud, almost challenging him to start this. It was something Tony knew from himself, when he tried to tempt someone into an argument he knew he was going to win. However, he wasn’t sure if this was going to be an argument. At least he didn’t want this to be an argument. He wasn’t here to fight, he was here to make sure Peter was okay.

Tony just had no idea how to do that. A crying Peter was something he knew, and he knew the boy needed physical contact, reassurance and words of love and support then. But this Peter? The one that was angry and ready to fight? What was he supposed to do? Pull out boxing gloves and a get into a ring with him? Let him scream and rage and pick up the pieces afterwards?

Peter made the first move. “I am not apologizing,” he said firmly, his voice way sturdier than Tony had expected.

The billionaire snorted as he pocketed his glasses, but it wasn’t anywhere near as amused and light-hearted as he wanted it to be. “Peter Parker not apologizing? That has to be a first.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, I know.” Suddenly, Tony felt so, so tired. He didn’t want to fight with Peter; there were other people in this building he would rather fight. Plus, he _was_ tired. The few times he slept in the last days were short naps on a couch when he had to force himself to sleep because couldn’t solve the simplest equations anymore.

Not saying anything, Tony closed the door behind him before sitting down on Peter’s bed. When the teenager stubbornly kept standing, he patted the mattress besides him. “C’mon, sit down. This is a talk we should have while sitting.”

“I don’t want to sit.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and Tony had to suppress a sigh. Was it too late to ground him for being a rebellious teenager?

“Peter, sit down.”

“Tell me you’re not going to let them not sign the Accords.”

“Peter-“

“Tell me, Tony!”

The mechanic rubbed his face. He regretted sitting down. It made him even more tired, as if his body tried to grab the chance for rest. At the same time, he didn’t really have the strength to stand up again. “I have no intention of giving them a free pass for the Accords. Now, can you sit down, please?” His tone clearly told Peter that it wasn’t a question, more of an order, and Tony almost winced at that. His father had always used a similar tone, though harsher words. There had never been any room to even think about his words being anything else but an order.

Peter just stared at him for a long moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before he eventually sat down next to him. There was about a foot between them, and his arms were still crossed over Peter’s chest.

The silence that followed was deafening. Or maybe that was just the tension suffocating him. Peter was clearly ready to continue his tirade, but he waited dutifully for Tony to continue.

So, Tony continued. Sniffing once, he asked: “Who told you?” His heart was beating in his throat. His left arm hurt like hell, and he wasn’t sure if it was the situation or just his tiredness that made the pain so much worse.

Peter glanced at him. “Who told me what?”

“About the thing you just screamed at Captain America.” He chose his words carefully, not wanting to say too much in case Peter didn’t know the entire picture.

“He’s not even a real captain,” Peter mumbled more to himself than his father, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Tony wanted to say something about that, but chose not to. There were more important things than Rogers’ correct title. “Peter, who told you? The files are sealed. Only Pepper and Rhodey know about Siberia, so which one of them was it?”

Peter’s eyes snapped from the carpet to Tony, and for a second, they were full of confusion. But then he looked away again, while his posture relaxed at the same time. Only it didn’t really look relaxed. More defeated. His arms fell down, and his fingers started fidgeting with the blanket he was sitting on. “Neither of them.” Tony’s mouth was already open, telling him that it was impossible, but Peter didn’t let him. “Remember that time you told me to take a look at the damage reports of your old suits to figure out why you stopped using them while you had to take a conference call?” If Tony was completely honest, no, he didn’t remember it. But it did sound like something he would come up with to occupy Peter for a while.

Peter didn’t continue, though he didn’t have to. Tony connected the dots, not knowing how to react, having several emotions crush over him at once. Relief that Pepper and Rhodey hadn’t betrayed him like that. Annoyance at himself that he hadn’t thought it through back then. Wonder that he always forgot just how smart Peter was. “You figured it out by looking at the protocol?” His tone was disbelieving.

Peter shrugged, eyes still casted downwards. “It wasn’t that difficult. The suit didn’t look like that after the fight at the airport, and there aren’t a lot of people who could damage your suit like that.”

For a second, Tony was completely speechless. His brain, that never shut up, couldn’t come up with a single thought. Before he could stop it, a humorless laugh escaped his lips. “And I thought I babyproofed everything.”

Peter wasn’t amused, if the look he shot him was anything to go by. And just like Rhodey earlier, he didn’t join Tony in laughing about it. “Siberia?” Tony didn’t say anything, cursing himself that he let it slip. “That’s like, pretty far away. And cold.” The things Peter didn’t say were the ones that mattered. That his suit had been in no condition to fly or that the heater hadn’t worked. A spine-chilling shiver went down his back as Tony unwillingly thought back to that bunker. Siberia was indeed far away. And very, very cold.

“I got home,” he eventually said.

“I want to know what happened.” The boy never asked for anything. In the beginning, Tony had to basically shove food down his throat for him to accept the food he was offering the kid. And it wasn’t just material things. It was attention and help – god, Peter never asked for help or demanded attention, even when he’d been shot. The exception was whenever they were in the workshop and Tony explained something to him, then he would throw in a question or two.

And now he wanted to know about Tony’s trauma. Like hell that would happen. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” Which was a lie. Peter was his son, which meant that Barnes hadn’t just killed Tony’s parents, but Peter’s grandparents. As much as he hated to admit it, keeping it from Peter was almost like Rogers not telling Tony about it. That thought alone nearly made Tony tell him everything. However, this was by far the worst place and time to talk about it.

Peter’s face hardened, his momentarily forgotten anger back again. “I think it does.” 

“Peter-“

“So it was that bad?” he interrupted him in a cold voice. “It was so bad you don’t even want to tell me?”

“I never said that.”

“Then why won’t you?”

“Because I honestly think you would walk right back into the kitchen and punch Rogers in the face.”

“Maybe I should!” Peter jumped up from the bed and started to pace again.

Tony couldn’t help but scoff again. “Well, get in line.”

“Don’t joke about this!” he screamed. Actually, literally, voice raised and his face being bright red screamed. “If you’d still needed the arc reactor, you’d be dead! He tried to kill you!”

There was another joke ready on the tip of Tony’s tongue. His mind already made up five extremely arrogant answers about being tougher than Rogers. He thought about telling him that if Rogers had really wanted to kill him, he would’ve rammed his shield a bit higher in his exposed neck. A part of him even wanted to tell the boy off for screaming at him, his own father’s screams ringing inside his ears.

But then Tony remembered a very crucial detail. Peter was absolutely terrified of losing another parent. He lost his parents when he was six. He held his uncle in his arms when he died. He calmed himself down by listening to people’s heartbeats, by making sure they were still alive. He told Tony himself that he had nightmares about him dying, too. Tony would bet his entire fortune, his company, his suits, his house, everything he owned that Peter also had nightmares about May dying. And now he found the man who came relatively close to killing Tony standing in the kitchen.

As Peter’s eyes started welling up again, Tony finally got up and didn’t even wait a second before engulfing him in a hug. At once, Peter grabbed his shoulders, clinging to them as if he was afraid Tony would disappear if he even as much as loosened his grip. It didn’t take long for the tears to follow, even though there were scarcely any.

“I’m not dead,” Tony said, repeating the words over and over again. “You hear me? I’m not dead. I’m right here.”

“You could’ve died there,” he sobbed into his shoulder, words barely understandable between the choked breaths. Tony could tell that Peter was trying to get his emotions under control, and he hated that the boy thought he couldn’t openly show them. “And-And I wouldn’t have even really known you. Wouldn’t have known-“ The last words were unintelligible, urging Tony to rub soothingly over his back.

Tony could’ve died and he wouldn’t have found out that Peter was his son. He would’ve never really got to know him, wouldn’t have spent all these hours with him. A new, burning rage started to fill up his veins. Rogers almost kept him from knowing his son. The urge to punch his perfect teeth out was stronger than ever.

It didn’t take long for Peter to calm down, and when he let go of Tony, the billionaire wasn’t even a little bit surprised that he grabbed his wrist, fingers over his pulse. There were a lot of things they should talk about, but neither of them knew how to. Peter was a teenager, he was supposed to not know how to express his feelings, and Tony was infamous for being absolutely terrible at talking about emotions.

So they didn’t talk about it.

“I want them to leave,” Peter eventually said, his fingers still on Tony’s wrist.

“They will,” he agreed.

But Peter caught the hidden meaning of it, his eyes snapping back to him. “When?”

Subconsciously, Tony straightened his back. “After I’ve talked to them.”

That wasn’t the answer Peter wanted to hear. Obviously. But he changed his tactic in a way that Tony had already anticipated. “You said you would do anything for me.”

He nodded, choosing his words carefully. “I did, and I will do anything for you. Which is why I am going to talk to them. And then they’ll leave.”

Peter’s fingers slipped from his wrist. The boy had heard the recording, and he was smart, as he had proven a few minutes ago. He had most likely already figured out why Tony was doing this. “Because you’re trying to give me my powers back.” There was a kind of hurt in his voice that Tony had kind of expected, and yet it still hurt. It hurt a lot like when he tried to give Peter all the expensive gifts to show him his love and he rejected all of them.

Taking a deep breath, Tony made sure to keep the eye contact. “Yes.” Peter started shaking his head, but Tony wasn’t finished. “You were the one who said that you lost your hands and that you need them, and I told you I would get them back for you.”

“There have to be other ways to do this.”

“This is the safest option.”

“We don’t even know what happened to me for sure. Dr. Cho has only theories.”

“So, what? You want me to wait until we have scientific proof or until your test results suddenly spell out all the answer we need?” Peter pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Yes, Helen has only theories, but there is no one who knows more about this stuff.” At least no one they could reach. “And maybe her theories are wrong, but to find out, we really need that energy core. Having it would make all of this way easier, you know that. They know how to find it. And before I start radiating a spider to bite you, I will always choose the safest option first.”

“But it’s not safe for you.”

Tony shook his head. “Buddy, I am not the focus of this.”

“Why not? You’re always telling me to think about myself, to think about my own happiness. Listen to your own advice! Why can’t you be selfish for just a bit and be angry at them?” Peter started to gesticulate wildly, taking a step back so he wouldn’t hit his father by accident.

Slowly, Tony started to lose his patience. It felt like they were talking at cross-purposes, while neither of them wanted to give in. “Because it would get me nowhere to be selfish.”

“Yes, it would. It would get you to not talk to them anymore.”

“Yeah, which would also destroy everything I’ve worked for in the last few months. The world needs the Avengers, Peter.”

“The world doesn’t want Avengers who just ignored their fears!”

“It’s not about what the world wants, it’s about what they need, and they need the Avengers! All of them!”

“And how do you know that? How-”

“Because I’ve seen it!” Tony didn’t mean to start screaming, but he did anyways. Surprised by the outburst, Peter leaned back, but Tony couldn’t stop now. The flood gates had been opened, and everything spilled out. “I’ve seen it and I keep seeing it every time I close my eyes! If humankind wants to have the tiniest chance of survival, they can’t be picky about who fights for them!”

Breathing got difficult. He made a mental note to check the ventilation system, making sure they wouldn’t all suffocate by accident. Then, Tony blinked once and suddenly, he wasn’t in Peter’s room at the compound anymore, but floating through space, a wormhole underneath him – in front of him thousands and thousands of alien ships. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he could feel his anxiety building up inside of him. No, he wasn’t in space. He was on earth. There was no wormhole, no nuclear bomb, no alien army. At least, not yet.

When he finally grounded himself enough to focus on something else than his fears, he looked at Peter, taking in his widened eyes and his way too pale face. All the tension had left his body, the shoulders dropped and arms limp at his side. Tony realized that it was most likely a bad move to hint that humanity was doomed to a kid that was scared of people dying. Like, he was pretty sure that all the parenting books would advise against it. But he couldn’t take the words back now. The damage was done.

“What?” Peter breathed, the sound barely loud enough to carry over to him. Tony didn’t know what to say. This conversation didn’t turn out like he had planned at all. Not that he really had a plan to start with. “What-What do you mean?”

“Peter, just-,” he tried to deflect, to change the topic, to maybe, somehow, miraculously undo what he’d just done.

“Don’t!” Peter shook his head vigorously. Despite looking so small and frail, there was a certain kind of confidence around him. Like he was ready to do whatever has to be done, no matter how scared he was of it. Tony couldn’t help but think how wrong Peter had been to think that Spider-Man was the better version of Peter Parker. Spider-Man would be absolutely nothing without Peter Parker. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing or that you can’t tell me or that it doesn’t concern you. I am part of humankind, it does concern me!”

“I don’t want to scare you,” he answered honestly.

For a nanosecond, Peter looked like he didn’t want to ask, like he would rather pretend to not have heard the words. But then the moment was over, and he pushed his chin forward. “I would rather be prepared than surprised.”

Tony snorted and sat back down on the bed, dropping his head in his hands. “Careful, that’s how my paranoia started.” He focused on breathing in and out, repeating it over and over. The pain in his arm grounded him, reminded him that this was the present. A part of him longed for a drink, but he came too far to fall back into old habits. As much as alcohol was, chemically speaking, a solution, it wasn’t the solution for his problems.

At one point, he felt the mattress shift as Peter joined him. Slowly, Peter’s hand came up to his wrist to hold it, directly above his pulse point. But it wasn’t a reminder that Tony was alive. It was a reminder for Tony that he wasn’t alone. The mechanic took a deep, shuddering breath. His head stayed in his hands, not ready to look his son in the eyes as he told him about the end of the world. “It was during the Battle of New York. The government didn’t know what to do, so they wanted to nuke Manhattan. Couldn’t let that happen. I grabbed it and flew it through the portal. The wormhole.”

“I saw that on TV,” Peter said softly. Absentmindedly, Tony wondered how often Peter had seen or heard of his father – even though he didn’t know Tony was his father back then – almost dying. Afghanistan, Stark Expo, Palladium poisoning, the Mandarin, Siberia – no wonder the boy was afraid. “You got out.”

“Barely, but yes, I got out. But up there… I saw something. Something that was ready to come. Something that we weren’t, and still aren’t prepared for.” He was back in space. Alone. With countless aliens, all ready to attack and destroy and kill.

For an impossibly long moment, the room was just silent. Tony tried to focus on his breathing, reminding himself that he was on earth and nowhere else. Over the years, the nightmares had decreased, but they never went away. The fear never went away. It was right there, on the edge of his mind, pushing forward whenever he dared to relax and think that he could have a peaceful moment.

Peter’s voice trembled when he eventually asked: “H-How bad was it?”

“Bad. Insanely, unimaginable bad.” Tony peeked through his fingers to look at Peter. The boy tried to be brave, but it was obviously a mask. Terror was shining through his eyes. Suddenly, the hand around his wrist didn’t feel like comfort anymore, but like a cry for help. Without really thinking about it, Tony swung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, pressing him close to his body and laying his head on top of his. “I tried to tell the other, but I’m not sure they really grasped what I was saying. Hell, I don’t think there is anyone who could understand it, besides Thor. And he’s a god with way too much confidence who thinks he can destroy everything if he just hits it hard enough with his hammer.”

Peter didn’t say anything, but a shiver went through his body. His hand reached back to Tony’s wrist, after he had to momentarily let go of it. Tony just pressed his son closer to his body, as if to shield him from all the looming danger.

“Ultron was my way of stopping it before it could get to us. But that failed, and all that was left was Rogers’ magical power of friendship.” He forced a dry, humorless laugh over his lips. “And now we don’t even have that anymore. Just… a pile of shards of bitterness and anger.”

Clint’s words echoed in Tony’s head. _The world needs the Avengers, and a fist is stronger than five individual fingers. _To fight whatever was going to come, they needed all the fists they could get. But if he couldn’t get fists, then he’d had to take all the individual fingers he could have. They would need them.

“I’m not working to get them pardoned because I think they deserve it or because I just forgive them for everything that had happened,” Tony continued, talking mostly into Peter’s curls. “And believe me, if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t do any of it. I would never talk to them and just try to forget everything that happened. But the world needs to be protected. The people need to be protected.” He thought about Pepper and the lake, thought about Peter in the lab, thought about Rhodey, Happy, and May. He may not always care about his own happiness or well-being, but he cared about theirs. So damn much.

“You could be wrong,” Peter said, voice thick and tight and so small and full of fear that Tony’s heart started to ache. “About them coming. Maybe… maybe that bomb killed them all?”

“Yeah. I could be wrong. And I hope and pray and beg that I am. That nothing is coming and I’m just too paranoid for my own good. But… I would rather be prepared than surprised.”

They just sat there in silence for some time. It couldn’t be longer than a few minutes, but it felt too long and too short simultaneously. Instead of letting his own fear take control over him, Tony focused on Peter, tried to pick up all the small signals of distress and panic, and finding a way to sooth them down. There wasn’t a lot he could do besides holding him closer and rubbing his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Tony eventually whispered.

Peter’s voice was hoarse. “For what?”

“Everything. For screaming. For not telling you. Especially for telling you.” He sighed. His usual charisma had left him again, like every time he tried to convey his emotions. “I know it’s beyond scary. Beyond terrifying. And after Ultron and all of the consequences – and yes, also because of the reaction of my teammates – I just… stopped talking about it. I’m paranoid, that’s no secret. Nobody would’ve taken it seriously, considering nobody believed in aliens until a few years ago. So, I just keep working on a way to fight what might be on its way to us on my own.”

Peter didn’t say anything, didn’t try to reassure him that it was okay, that he wasn’t bothered or scared by it. He wasn’t downplaying his concern and that was really concerning. It made Tony feel like he really screwed this up. Maybe he should look up therapists for teenagers. That’s the least he could do after everything he just revealed to him. And who knows? Maybe they would get a discount if Tony would go to therapy, too. He had enough issues for at least a hundred sessions.

“The Accords are important and I will continue to fight for them. But if- … _when_ something that big happens, we need to rally all the troops. Need to be able to communicate and fight as a united front. Like… like you and Flash getting along for a decathlon competition.” Even though he couldn’t see Peter’s face, he could practically feel his unimpressed look. “Not any competition, of course, a big one. Like nationals. No, internationals. One for the entire universe.” He could still feel the unimpressed look. “You know what I’m trying to say.”

Peter didn’t answer. The comparison wasn’t perfect, considering that Peter and Flash didn’t really fight. It was Flash bullying him – which Tony was 100% aware of, and he had several plans to stop it, as soon as he would get a green light from May and Pepper – and Peter just trying to ignore it. But it was the best analogy he could think of.

“I get it,” Peter said after a while, moving away a bit to look at Tony. He looked way too old for someone who wasn’t even sixteen yet. Weirdly enough, he also looked way too young. He was suddenly painfully reminded that Peter was a _kid_. “I get why you would work with them to save the world. But them being here right now isn’t about the world. This is just about me.”

“Which is just as important for me,” Tony answered immediately. “Your happiness is very, very important to me, Peter.”

“But I’m not happy if you do this only because of me.”

“Then think of it as a test run. To see if we can still work together if we have to. To see if there is a chance for the Avengers to be a team again.”

“And how is that test going?” Peter had probably aimed for something light-hearted to cut through the tension, but he landed at sarcastic and bitter. Tony didn’t blame him.

“Well, let’s see. I screamed at them at the Tower, Nat sent Clint to your home, we almost jumped at each other’s throats, and then you screamed at them. I would say it’s going pretty bad.” Peter grimaced, and Tony couldn’t help but follow his example. This entire day was a nightmare. Nothing went as he had planned. “But, hey, the meeting isn’t over yet. Maybe we’ll find a solution.”

Peter sat up then, his expression serious. “I know I can’t stop you from talking to them. But I don’t want you to ignore the Accords, just so you come to an agreement.”

“I told you that I’m not planning to do that.”

“Yeah, but when you can’t think of a better way to get what you want, you also chose the one where you take the most damage.” Tony wanted to ask the boy how he knew that or who told him, but he didn’t get a chance. “I fought for the Accords, too, and I stand by them. Or at least the idea of the Accords. And if you just ignore that and give them just what they want, then-“ Peter searched for the right words, but couldn’t find them and just shrugged. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t feel good. It would feel like me fighting for what I believe in was pointless.”

If Tony was being honest, he never considered his position. Never considered how Peter felt about this. At least not in a way he should have considered it. And with that thought, a different reason for guilt hit him. One that he’d ignored for a year. “I should’ve explained you everything before I took you to Germany. I should’ve let you choose whose side you want to be on before throwing you into a battle. But I was so desperate to get more numbers, to have even teams, that I couldn’t risk that. I’m sorry, Pete.”

Peter simply shook his head. “I told you, I am for the Accords. Even if you would’ve explained it to me and gave me a choice who I want to fight, I would’ve chosen your side. Not because of you – well, I mean, a little bit because of you, yeah – but because it’s what I think is right.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile, his heart warmer, and ran a hand through Peter’s hair in an affectionate gesture. “That’s nice to hear, buddy.”

The corners of his mouth quickly jumped upwards, before he turned sober again. “Please don’t get them out of the Accords. I mean, of course, I would like my powers back, but I’m not sacrifice my principles for them. And you don’t have the right to make that decision for me.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, because, for real, was there anything else he could’ve said? No. Tony couldn’t just ignore Peter’s wishes, just because he thought he knew what was best for him. “I won’t do that. I promise.”

Peter gave him a small but honest smile, and the lingering tension in the room started to ebb away. “Y’know, when you said you would do anything for me, I kinda thought that meant breaking into OsCorp or something.”

Tony laughed. Which he hadn’t thought possible a few minutes ago. Without really meaning to do, he fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling above. With his arm that had been around Peter’s shoulders only a second ago, he pulled him down next to him, keeping him close. Peter wasn’t protesting. “Oh, I would gladly break into that dump. It’s one of my favorite back-up plans for this.”

“I could help,” Peter offered, just as happy about the dissolving of the tension as Tony was.

“Oh, can you now?”

“Of course! And everyone else could, too. Like Ocean’s Eleven. It can be like, a family operation. Happy can drive the get-away car. Ned will be the guy in the chair, obviously. May can scream at us while treating our injuries – not that we really will be injured, we’re too good for that. But, like, bumped toes or something. Miss Potts can come up with good alibis. Or a strategy. She’s probably very good at that.” Tony nodded, not wanting to interrupt Peter’s ramblings. It’s been too long since he heard them. “And Colonel Rhodes could… what else do we need for a heist?”

“A distraction?”

Peter’s smile turned sassy. “I thought that was your job.”

Tony played along and looked mock-offended. “Excuse me? Do I not have the most important job in the heist?”

“Who says the distraction isn’t the most important job?”

“All the movies about heists that were ever made.”

“But you’re so good at being distracting.”

He hummed, pretending to think about the statement before nodding. “True. I’m a natural at it.” Peter laughed, and it sent a vibration through Tony’s body. “What’s your job, then?”

“I have to get the spider, of course. I’m the only one who knows what it looked like.”

Tony turned his head, but only saw the top of Peter’s head. He deadpanned: “I think you only want the coolest part, Danny Ocean.”

“What? No, of course not! It’s only the most logical job for me. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tony snorted. His eyes closed on their own, and a calming peace came over him. He could fall asleep right now. Not only because his body was starting to demand it, but laying here with Peter tucked safely into his side, he felt content. Relaxed.

But Peter wasn’t one to keep quiet. “You don’t have to do everything on your own. You know that, right?” With a lot more effort that he liked to admit, Tony opened an eye to look at him. Peter craned his head back to be able to look at his face. “Even if you think you’re protecting me or us or that we’ll think that you’re paranoid or overreacting. You’ve got a family who wants to help you. So, just… let us help you.”

A kind of warmth he couldn’t name filled Tony’s chest and threatened to burn him entirely to ashes. How could this boy who was clearly too good for this world and wise beyond his years be the result of one of his drunken one-night-stands? Emotions started to choke him up. He could feel a tingling in his nose and tried to reason that he was just so tired that his own body betrayed him and overreacted. With a smile, he squeezed Peter’s arm, hoping that that would convey all the things he couldn’t put in words. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll try to keep that in mind, but you know what they say about old dogs and learning new tricks.”

“But you’re a _smart_, old dog.”

“No, wrong answer. You should’ve said that I’m not old at all.”

“Well, the wrinkles on your face beg to differ.”

“You’re grounded.” Peter laughed again. Tony had to fight quite a bit to keep the smile from his face. “I’m serious. You screaming at war criminals I can forgive. But calling me old and saying I have wrinkles? Unacceptable.”

“You know, some people would call you delusional.”

“Those people are clearly wrong.” This time, Peter’s laugh was infectious enough that Tony couldn’t keep his stern face. The silence that followed wasn’t pressing or suffocating, but calming, like a balm for his soul. He was pretty sure that he would fall asleep in seconds if he closed his eyes again. And a part of him wanted to. Not necessarily sleep, but just stay here with his son and do fun stuff with him.

But he was an adult. He had to do the adult stuff first before he was allowed to do something fun. With a heavy sigh, he nudged Peter in the side, prompting him to move aside so he could sit up. His back ached. Maybe Tony really was getting old. “Kiddo, I would love to continue this, but there is a meeting I have to attend.”

“I could go for you,” Peter offered, still lying on the bed and looking up to Tony. “You can just take a nap here.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sure you and Rhodey would be perfectly well-mannered.” Tony just rolled his eyes, and ignored Peter’s smile that was equal parts sassy and apologetic. Not that he was really mad at him, or Rhodey for that matter. Yes, Peter had blurted out that he was Tony’s son, and Rhodey had definitely planned for something like this to happen, but the billionaire knew they did it out of love. “Do your homework, eat your yogurt, and then you can play with your toys.”

“I’m not five, you know?” Peter complained with an eyeroll, but sat up. “Hey, can I go to the lab later? There’s a simulation I’d like to run for my Physics class.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “What are your teachers teaching you that you need to run simulations in a state-of-the-art lab?”

He shrugged. “It’s for a project. I thought now that I don’t have to patrol anymore, I could use my time to focus a bit more on school. Y’know, to make sure I’ll get into MIT.”

“Kid, you’re getting into MIT anyway, and you’re already top of your class. You don’t need to-“

_“Boss, according to our research of several parenting books, it is highly advised to encourage the behavior Mr. Parker is displaying.”_

Peter smirked. “_Our_ research?”

Tony was trying very hard to look nonchalant, and ignored the comment. “Normally, I would let you use the lab, but I didn’t clean it up yet, and I know how you behave in there. I would never find anything again, so how about we make this a lab-free weekend? Play board games or whatever.”

“Board games? You mean the stuff they have at the Smithsonian?”

“Laugh all you want, Parker, but I _will_ kick your ass at Monopoly.” Peter did laugh again, and Tony slipped his glasses back on as he stepped towards the door. However, before he went outside, he turned around again. “Oh, I almost forgot this. I have a little surprise for you.” Curious, Peter straightened his back, looking him up and down as if he expected him to pull something from behind his back. “FRI, activate the update.”

_“Of course.”_

There was a soft chiming sound that was completely superfluous and only there for the dramatic effect. FRIDAY really was starting to think like Tony. Peter blinked a few times, obviously confused, but after an encouraging nod from Tony, he said: “Uh… hello?”

_“Hello Peter.”_

“Karen!” The grin on Peter’s face almost split his face. “I haven’t talked to you in like, forever!”

_“It has been twelve days since we last talked.”_

“Oh man, I missed you so much! So much stuff had happened!”

“Don’t get into trouble you two, FRIDAY is on babysitting duty,” Tony playfully threatened, but neither the boy nor the AI were listening to him, Peter already retelling everything that had happened to him – not the really important stuff like losing his powers, but more mundane things like how his English test went or what questions he’d answered at his last decathlon practice, making them out to be absolutely vital to his life.

The second Tony closed the door behind him, he couldn’t hear any of Peter’s chattering or Karen’s soft replies, thanks to the room being completely soundproofed. “Well, FRIDAY, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

_“Mr. Parker does seem a lot happier now. Though, I do have to confess that I was concerned during the middle part of the conversation.”_

“You weren’t the only one.” Tony sniffed once, took a deep breath, and started to walk back down the hallway. Somehow, his steps were a bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line: “Laugh all you want, Parker, but I will kick your ass at Monopoly.” 
> 
> I don't really know what to write here, because I feel like everything had been said in the chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and the comments, they motivate me a lot. There's a lot happening in this chapter, so I'm not going to stall this. 
> 
> As always, a big thank you to my beta-reader [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Enjoy :)

Rhodey and the Rogues had moved from the kitchen to one of the more secluded conference rooms, which was a pretty smart idea. They didn’t need any more interruptions today. The second Tony opened the door, four sets of eyes snapped to him. However, before he could even start to decipher their expressions – besides from Rogers, who looked like a kicked puppy – Rhodey was already on his feet and walking past him. Tony didn’t wait a second to follow him, closing the door and making sure they were out of sight of the other three. He didn’t want Natasha reading their lips.

“How is he?” Rhodey asked before they even stopped. There was real concern in his eyes. Not that Tony had ever doubted Rhodey’s affection for Peter, but he was a bit salty about the stunt he pulled earlier. The colonel had clearly known that Tony had lost track of time. Just one word from him, and Tony could’ve called Happy, ordering him to drive the boy back to Queens and none of this would have happened.

The mechanic wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, and he refused to figure that out right now.

Tony massaged his left wrist absentmindedly, thinking about his answer. “Okay-ish. We’ve talked about it,” he eventually said. “There were a few rough patches, but we figured it out. Mostly.” Well, not really. Tony knew he had scared the boy, and he fully expected nightmares to make an appearance this weekend. Not only for Peter, but for himself, too. Barely sleeping, inviting the Rogues, and talking to Peter about his trauma… that was all quite triggering, he knew that. Maybe he could up with an excuse for them to sleep in the same room. Tony could react faster when Peter would get too lost in his dream, and having the boy close always calmed Tony down. It would be a win-win situation. A part of him wondered if this was normal parent behavior. Probably not. But most normal parents weren’t dealing with superhero-related stuff either.

However, all of that could wait until later. Not being able to keep the hurt from his voice, Tony asked, “By the way, do you have any more information about Peter that I’m not aware of? Any more secrets that could lead to three fugitives attacking him? ‘Cause now would be the perfect time to share them.”

“I didn’t know he knew _that_,” Rhodey defended himself, not sounding apologetic enough for Tony’s ears. “I told you that his friend talks a lot, and he mentioned that Peter was pretty angry when Rogers showed up at their school. Peter is protective of you. It wasn’t that difficult to figure out what was going to happen.”

“Oh, you knew he would scream in their faces?”

“Of course not. But I knew he would have your back, and I figured that couldn’t hurt. And it didn’t. I also knew that your focus would shift if he was there, and you would listen to what he said.”

Tony didn’t know what to say. He was staring at a point next to Rhodey’s head, trying to ignore the confidence in his friend’s voice. “Peter isn’t protective of me,” he said instead, leading the conversation in a different direction.

Rhodey scoffed. “Really? Then what happened in the kitchen? Should we watch the footage?”

“Parents are protective, not the kids.”

“Everyone can be protective. Don’t act like you don’t know that.”

Sometimes, Tony really hated that the man knew him so well. At the same time, he loved it. Burying his hands deep inside his pockets, the billionaire rolled back on the balls of his feet, sniffing once. “And what happened here? What kind of fun did I miss?”

“I bet you had more fun that I did.” Tony sincerely doubted that. “They asked questions, of course. Wanted to know if Peter meant father in a figurative or biological way. Wanted to know if he really had been talking about you.” Rhodey’s voice was hard, but Tony didn’t know how to react. If they had to reassure themselves that Peter had been referring to Tony when he’d said father, it meant that they – Sam and Nat – didn’t know about Siberia. He didn’t know what to make of that. It wasn’t like he really wanted everyone to know about what had happened in that bunker – but at the same time, he was furious about Steve continuing to keep secrets when the Captain had reprimanded him for keeping things from the team. “Rogers wanted to go after you, Nat was unusually quiet and lost in thoughts, and Sam was very persistent with his questions.”

“What did you answer?”

“That it isn’t my place to tell them.”

Tony’s mouth twitched upward. “You told them you couldn’t spill the tea?”

Rhodey’s eye roll looked pretty fake to Tony, even though the Colonel would probably deny it. “I didn’t say spill the tea.”

“Why? You said it earlier. I thought it has a permanent spot in your vocabulary.”

“Just shut up.” The smile on his face betrayed the annoyance in Rhodey’s voice. “Ready to go back in there?”

“No time like the present, right?” Tony was aware that he hadn’t really answered the question. And he was also aware that Rhodey noticed that.

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

“Platypus, please. Look who you’re talking to.”

“That’s exactly why I ask.” Rhodey turned somber and stopped Tony before he could turn back to the conference room. “Don’t offer them a way out of the Accords again.”

“Why does everyone think I want to do that? I didn’t offer them a way out.”

“You humored that scenario.”

“To show them how unrealistic it is.” His friend didn’t look convinced. Tony turned to him, giving him more of his attention. “I’m not doing that, okay? I already promised Peter not to do it, and I promise you now. The Accords won’t be negotiable.” Rhodey continued to look at him, searching his face as if he looked for a hidden meaning behind Tony’s words, a clever way out, a loophole of some sorts. But there was none. Tony meant it when he said it. No way out of the Accords unless an alien army was invading earth.

Eventually, Rhodey nodded and they both returned to the conference room. However, before Tony opened the door, he stopped for a second. “FRIDAY, don’t let Peter listen in. No access to any recordings or of the footage or what not.” He only half-heard the AI’s affirmation before he walked inside.

The room was incredible tense to the point that walking in felt like walking straight into a wall. Tony tried to look as nonchalant as he could while unbuttoning his jacket and sitting down, on the opposite side of the table of his former teammates, and Rhodey took a seat next to him. “Where did we leave off?” Tony asked more to himself than anyone else. “Right, the Accords.”

“No, the boy,” Sam interjected, leaning forward on the table. Steve still looked like a kicked puppy and there was something in Nat’s eyes that Tony didn’t want to think about too much. “The one who called you his father.”

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “He is not part of this conversation anymore.”

Sam ignored him. Rhodey hadn’t been kidding when he said that the ex-soldier wanted answers. “Is he your biological son? Or is he something else? An… intern or something who sees you as his father-figure? A mentee? Do you want him to be your successor for your company, so you train him?”

The answer was yes to all of them. “Why does it matter if he’s my son or not?”

“Because it does,” Natasha said, forcing Tony’s eyes on her. Her expression was unusually open, which meant that she wanted him to see her emotions. The guilt. The spy rarely showed her guilt, mostly because she didn’t believe that showing that emotion would change anything. She was a firm believer of the saying that actions speak louder than words. Or facial expression, in this case.

Tony tried very hard not to be swayed by it. Instead, he thought about how she’d betrayed him in Germany and finding Clint in the Parker apartment. Their relationship had never been an easy one, having a teasing sibling-like one at the best of times and now… Tony wasn’t sure where they stood now. A part of him wanted it to go back the way it was, but a bigger part of him knew that he just couldn’t shake off all the times she’d gone behind his back. “Why? Would you not have sent Clint if you knew?”

“I asked Clint to look into him because I wanted to make sure that he isn’t someone who was sent to spy on or manipulate you.”

“Oh, you mean like a new assistant that suddenly shows up?”

“Exactly.” Her bluntness surprised Tony a bit, but he made a point to not even blink behind his glasses. Natasha didn’t blink either, holding his gaze, making sure that he understood what she was saying. “Some people in this… business start very young with the sole purpose of playing on parental feelings. I just wanted to make sure that this wasn’t the case.”

“And you don’t think I would’ve checked everything about him before I let him close to me? Especially after how you came into my life?”

“Your feelings could’ve blinded you. Could have made you only see what you wanted to see.” A small part of Tony understood where Nat came from, could understand her reason behind sending a master spy after a boy and Tony seriously pondered if he would’ve done the same if he’d grown up under the same circumstances Natasha had. It was no secret that she knew a lot more about the darker side of the world than anyone else in this room combined.

However, before Tony could decide how he felt exactly about it, Nat continued. “But I made a mistake. And I’m sorry. My intent was never to hurt or scare Peter, and I should’ve told Clint to not threaten him.”

Hearing Natasha apologize for something was very rare. Mostly because she almost never made any mistakes, and if she did, she always found a quick way to fix it. Talking about mistakes and apologizing for them? That just wasn’t her style, which was why hearing her say those words was almost surreal for Tony. But somehow, even though she admitted her mistake and was apologizing, it felt like she had the upper hand. That wasn’t how Tony wanted this conversation to go.

“Why the change of heart? Why do you feel different now that you know we share the same DNA? Shouldn’t had it been enough to know that I care about him?” The words were out of his mouth before Tony could stop them, but right now he didn’t really care. It wasn’t really any new information, anyway. He wasn’t so naïve to tell himself that they hadn’t connected the dots from the crumbs they’d been able to pick up.

Natasha held his gaze. “It should’ve been. That’s why I made a mistake.”

“So, he _is_ your son?” Sam asked again.

Something started to burn inside Tony, working its way up his chest and into his mouth, urging him on to do anything but sit still and be quiet. But he only interlaced his fingers, suppressing his need to tinker or move around. Next to him, Rhodey shifted. Tony ignored him, cursing at himself that he hadn’t asked Peter what he wanted the Rogues to know and what not. “Yes,” he eventually admitted, “but that’s only a formality. Even if he wasn’t my son, it wouldn’t change the way I feel about him. Which means that I will kick anyone’s ass anyway who tries to hurt him.”

The underlying threat in his words didn’t escape anyone in the room. No one took it lightly, which filled Tony with a great deal of satisfaction.

“Which leads us to Barrett and the energy core,” Steve said, looking quite relieved that he could stir the conversation in a different direction. He’d been unusually quiet and still looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here, making his broad frame as small as possible.

“Exactly. I want them both, obviously. But I will settle for the core, if I know that he will face proper justice wherever it is you take him, and that he’ll never see the sun again. And after I’ve punched him in the face.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Steve nodded.

“Great. Now, the Accords.” The entire room tensed again, but Tony wasn’t about to falter again. He promised Peter and Rhodey. “They’re non-negotiable if you ever want to work as an Avenger again.”

“If they even let you sign them,” Rhodey threw in, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms. “I’m not sure if the UN will still offer you that deal after all the laws you broke. The damage in Germany and Bucharest, resisting arrest, breaking out of jail, entering countries illegally, all of that. They can’t just let it slide.”

“And they will be harsh,” Tony continued, “considering all the attention the world gives us. They make an example out of you to show everyone who thinks about doing something similar that there will be consequences.”

“Are you saying that signing the Accords is now part of the deal we’re talking about?” Sam asked, face pulled into a slight grimace. “I thought we were only talking about Barrett and that weapon.”

Tony considered it for a second, but then shook his head. “No. The deal is the one I offered you in the beginning. I get the energy core, you get Barrett, and I won’t tell anyone where you were. I just wanted to point out that the demand Natasha had is completely out of the question. There is no way you can just come back without any consequences, and if you still think that that’s even a tiny bit realistic… well, you know your way out, right?”

There was surprisingly little resistance. There was no agreement either, but after what had happened in the kitchen, Tony had expected more. A side glance to Rhodey told him he was thinking the same. But all they got were front seats to the silent conversation the trio had that they couldn’t completely understand. Tony wondered if much of this reaction was due to Peter, either because of his words or his presence here.

Then Steve cleared his throat and looked straight at Tony. “Could I talk to you for a moment? Alone?”

For the fraction of a second, he wanted to scream no. The last time they had been alone, Steve had rammed his shield into his chest. A cold terror filled Tony’s veins, and he heard the echo of his cracking suit, saw the rage in Roger’s eyes, felt the hopelessness and betrayal and pain. He really didn’t want to be alone with him. What if he wanted to finish his job?

But then the stubborn part of his brain – the part that looked at something impossible and found a way to make it possible, the part that helped him survive Afghanistan, the part that made him get up in the bunker, the part that urged him on to talk to Peter after conducting four DNA tests – refused to be defeated like this, to submit to his fears and admit that Rogers had the upper hand.

And there may have been a smaller, but definitely existing part that told him to talk to Rogers because it was what adults do; solve their problems by talking about them. He wanted to be a good role model for Peter, wanted to work on himself to be a good father, a worthy man to look up to, and to justify the idolization the kid gave him.

So, while Rhodey stiffened next to him and Sam and Nat exchanged questioning looks, Tony just stood up. “Fine.” Steve seemed just as surprised about his answer as everyone else. Rhodey gave him a look that screamed _are you out of your fucking mind_, but Tony just shot him a look that said _relax, it’ll be fine_. At least that what he wanted the look to say, but judging by his friend’s expression that wasn’t what came across. However, Tony ignored it and turned around, trusting that Steve would simply follow him and not attack his back.

Outside, they stopped in a small nook, away from prying eyes – but that didn’t mean they relaxed. No, quite the opposite, actually. Tony stood in the most strategic place: the easiest point for his suit to get to him, the most exit options, kind of closing in on Rogers, standing between him and Peter’s room. Steve realized why Tony had chosen this exact spot, Tony knew that. And Steve knew that Tony knew that he knew. The mechanic could continue this, interpreting their body language (Tony standing tall, his chin pushed forward, hands in his pockets, and sunglasses in place, while Rogers’ shoulders were hunched a bit, face slightly angled downwards), but he didn’t have time to elaborate on these mind games.

Silence stretched between them. Tony did his best to not appear like he was bothered by it, forcing his heart rate down and all his paranoid and over-imaginative thoughts to stop. The phantom pain in his chest was back, and he almost looked down to reassure himself that nothing was stuck inside it.

But while Tony was good at the strategic use of silence, he was also really terrible if he was on the receiving end of it. Pepper always took full advantage of that, getting him to talk by simply looking at him and not saying a word. Tony seriously doubted that Rogers knew what he was doing right now, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t effective. “Y’know, we could’ve just kept silent while sitting in the conference room. We didn’t have to come here to just not talk about anything.”

Rogers’ mouth pulled into a smile that looked very forced. Tony couldn’t tell if it really was or if the man was just so uncomfortable. “I’m just-… trying to figure out where to start.”

“How about the thing you want to tell me that, apparently, no one else should know.”

“Right,” Steve agreed, nodding his head up and down a bit. Then, he took a deep breath and stood a little taller. “I’m sorry.”

For solid ten seconds, Tony couldn’t process what just happened.

Steve mistook it as a sign to elaborate, so he did. “I realized that I never apologized for what happened. For any of it, I mean. And… no matter where this meeting is going, I at least want you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Right,” Tony breathed, kicking himself in the ass to finally do something. Anything that didn’t make him look like a complete idiot. “And what part specifically are you sorry about? Just out of curiosity.”

“Rejecting the Accords the way I did.” The soldier looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here, and Tony felt pretty connected to that, because he too would rather be anywhere else. What a mood, to put in in Peter’s words. “I thought I had to be unrelenting in that matter for the UN to change the Accords in our favor. In my head, I saw it as a fight between us and governments, and fighting governments is something I know how to do. By planting myself like a tree and tell them that they should move, that I wouldn’t let them trick me. I thought it was something that I couldn’t compromise on. But… I never really considered what everyone else was thinking. That I wasn’t just fighting a government. I should’ve listened more and be more open to it. I should’ve trust you that you would find a way that works for all of us.”

Over the past few months, Tony had often imagined this conversation, especially if the negotiations with the UN were particularly difficult. There were infinite versions of this in his mind, from teary begging to screaming matches to throwing punches. But this outcome never crossed his mind. A bunch of emotions started to fill up his chest, so many and so fast that the genius had no way to identify them.

He sniffed once. Twice. Ignored the aching in his arm. Steve was still watching him.

“Siberia?” Tony just asked, because he had to. In this moment, having clarity about what happened in that bunker was more important than breathing.

The moment of silence between them stretched and stretched until it felt like an eternity. Rogers’ jaw and shoulders were tense, and he had this kicked puppy expression again, which didn’t really pair well with his slightly aggressive body language. Eventually, he said: “Not telling you about your parents was a mistake. And fighting against you.”

“Leaving me alone in a bunker with no way of getting out of there,” Tony threw in, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Yeah, that… too.” Then, Steve’s expression turned determined, no trace of the puppy left. “I shouldn’t have fought you, and I’m sorry for that.”

“You chose Barnes’ side.”

Steve’s eyes hardened. “I will always choose Bucky’s side.”

Tony realized that this was probably the closest he would get to the real reason why Rogers chose the murderer of his parents from a guy who was born in 1918. He may be a hundred, but sometimes his head was still stuck in the forties.

Tony didn’t know how to feel. Hearing Steve apologize and admitting his mistakes, admitting that he was in the wrong and that he hurt Tony, was something that had crossed Tony’s mind a lot. But there was a difference between imagining it and actually hearing it. A part of him told him to accept it and make his own apologies, after all, he hadn’t been completely right, either. He shouldn’t have blindly signed the Accords, accepting the first draft that was presented to him. He should’ve talked to his team about the possibilities of amending the Accords. They were warriors, not businessmen, they weren’t used to negotiating laws and deals. And he had been the first one to throw a punch. No, Tony wasn’t innocent in this, and in order to move on and patch things up, you need to forgive. Being resentful would mean getting stuck in the past, unable to continue living. That was what you always hear in therapy. It’s written in all those books about finding yourself. It’s the kind of principle Tony wanted Peter to live by.

But there was the other part of him: the one that just simply didn’t want to forgive. Because Rogers had been his friend and he had betrayed him. By not trusting him with the Accords, by taking off with Barnes, by keeping the true nature of the death of his parents to himself, by attacking him and by leaving him alone. And all of that had hurt a lot more than Tony wanted anyone to realize, more than he liked to admit himself. Now, Rogers shows up here and apologizes, and Tony should just… forget everything that just happened? Brush it away like it wasn’t a big deal? No. He couldn’t do that. He didn’t _want_ to. Maybe that was childish and immature, but Tony didn’t really care right now. He had every right to be at least a bit resentful for some time. It was just like what he told Peter: in case of an alien invasion, Tony would put everything aside to fight with them, but as long as that wasn’t happening, he didn’t really need to be forgiving. Not yet, at least.

Tony straightened his back, and cocked his head to the side, wearing a disbelieving expression. “And you expect me to just forgive and forget? Because you apologized?”

“No, I don’t,” Rogers answered with a shake of his head.

“Good, because I can’t.” His words were a lot like a hiss, letting a lot of his frustration and hurt slip out of his mouth. Rogers flinched a little, and Tony took great satisfaction from it. “I may be working on getting all of you an eventual pardon, but don’t think that I do that because I forgave you. It’s purely for the greater good.”

“I know, and I thank you for that.” To his credit, the super soldier still looked patient, no matter how harsh Tony’s words were. Somehow, that irked the man quite a bit. Perfect Captain America – just like Howard had always told him. “But, like I said before, I wanted to apologize because I mean it, not because I want to… guilt trip you or anything.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You could never guilt trip me.” Rogers didn’t answer, but there was a different question that Tony needed an answer to. “You didn’t tell the others about Siberia?”

When he shook his head, he actually looked ashamed. “No, I didn’t. But I will tell them.”

“Why? Because Peter yelled at you?”

“Because I can’t walk around preaching about having no secrets from your teammates while keeping them myself. The last time I did that, I lost a very good friend.”

Tony had to avert his eyes, which he hated because it was basically like admitting defeat. But he knew that if he wouldn’t do it, he would probably do something stupid like apologize and promise to fix everything. Why did Rogers had to apologize and be all reasonable? It took away Tony’s right to be uncontrollably angry at him. It also kind of made him look like a jerk for holding on to his anger, but Tony decided that he could stomach being a bit of a jerk. He’d just have to be extra nice to old ladies or orphans or the press or donate two billion to charity to balance it out. That was the way karma worked, right?

It was Rogers who broke the silence again; but this time, with a drastic change of the topic. “Peter seems to be a very good boy. Very loyal and brave.”

“He’s the best,” Tony said instantly before he could stop himself. Two needs fought inside his chest. His need to talk and brag about Peter, and the need to offer Steve as little information about the boy as he could. He couldn’t say which need was winning.

But Rogers seemed to pick up on his uneasiness, and just nodded before saying: “We will try to find Barrett as soon as we can. Right now, we’re very close to figuring out what he’s going to do next, and we’ll let you know as soon as we know something more precise.”

“And you’re making that decision by yourself without talking to your team first?”

“We’ve actually talked about it before we came here. What Natasha said threw all of us off the tracks.”

“Yeah, well, she’s pretty good at throwing everyone off.” Steve gave him an almost amused smile (maybe a peace-offering, because his statement hadn’t been _that_ funny), but Tony couldn’t return it. Not yet. “I can distract Ross long enough for you to fly off to wherever it is you’re going.”

Silence filled the space between them once again, but it wasn’t quite as tense now. Still tense, but nothing compared to what had been there before. Then, a bit hesitantly, Rogers added: “Tony, thank you for working on the Accords. For working out that deal for Clint and Scott. It means a lot of them to be with their families. And… for working on our pardon.”

Oh boy, he was really trying to make Tony’s resolution falter, didn’t he? Luckily, Tony’s angry side was very stubborn. “Like I said. It’s not personal. Just for the greater good. Don’t forget it.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded, but kept silent. Tony was glad about it. He really didn’t know if he could take any more apologizing or thanking him. And he was so ready for this conversation to be over. Wordlessly, he turned back towards the conference room. Rogers followed him, but as Tony opened the door, neither of them entered. Instead, the three remaining persons inside stepped out to them, picking up on the signal that this conversation was over. Rhodey appeared at Tony’s side like a ghost, letting his gaze travel up and down on him to make sure he was alright. Tony’s chest filled with a familiar kind of warmth at that.

Sam looked like he wanted to say something, probably another question about Peter, but Tony was faster than him. “You still know your way out, right? No need for one of us to escort you out.”

That was an obvious broad hint, and they didn’t fight him on it. “We’ll be in touch,” Steve just said, before nodding his goodbye and turning around to leave. Sam looked confused or maybe dissatisfied for a second, but eventually accepted it before also saying his silent goodbye and following the super soldier.

Nat, however, lingered for a second, long enough for the two ex-soldiers to be at the end of the hallway. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but uncharacteristically sensitive. “Clint didn’t tell me anything about Peter besides that I should leave him alone if I want the team to get back together.” Tony didn’t know why she told him that, and he didn’t even want to start figuring out how he felt about knowing that Clint had kept his promise.

Not that he really got a chance to, because Natasha kept talking. “And I’ll make sure that we get that energy core. I have to look out for a fellow spider.”

All the air was punched out of Tony’s lungs. Rhodey tensed and took a step forward. “How-“

She raised a blond eyebrow, a little (harmless, non-threatening) smirk pulling at her lips. “Please. Tony doesn’t know any High Schoolers. Peter is young, and Spider-Man sounded young. Their height and build matched. Not just any teenager can jump over tables like it is nothing, crash into walls, get hit by alien energy, and still be walking around. It’s not rocket science.” Tony immediately searched for the right way to threaten her to not reveal Spider-Man’s real identity, but it turned out that it was superfluous. “I won’t tell them. It’s not my place. And I do want us all getting back together.”

Tony didn’t know what to say to that. Neither did Rhodey. Good thing they didn’t have to say anything at all, because the spy just turned around and followed her teammates.

After about a minute, FRIDAY informed them that the three had left the building. They hadn’t been talking on their way out. Without really thinking about it, Tony walked into the conference room and slumped down into one of the chairs. He was so, so tired. Especially with all the adrenalin leaving his body. “Well, that went… well?”

“Don’t you ever pull shit like this again,” Rhodey said as he took a seat next to him. “I mean it. You’re going to drive me into an early grave.”

“You have to be more specific, sour patch. What exactly should I never do again?”

“Inviting them here. Talking to Rogers alone. All of it.” His friend’s voice was so hard and persistent, that Tony didn’t make a joke about it. It would turn into a serious discussion, and he didn’t have the energy for that anymore. “By the way, what did you talk about?”

“He apologized.” Rhodey’s eyes widened comically. “Yeah, I know. Hadn’t expected that either. But he did. A few times, actually.”

“And what did you say?”

“That I can’t forgive and forget.”

“And he accepted that?”

“Well, since he didn’t bury another shield into my body, it seems like it.”

For a moment, it was just silent, both of them replaying the events of this day in their heads. Then, Rhodey whispered: “Shit.”

Tony didn’t mean to laugh. It wasn’t even funny. But he did anyway. It started with a small chuckle which turned into a soft laugh that just didn’t stop. Maybe he officially lost his mind. But most likely, it had to do with the fact that he was so relieved that this meeting ended without them physically fighting. Because that had been a very real possibility.

Eventually, the billionaire had calmed down again. The pain in his chest was almost unnoticeable now, and the ache in his arm had turned into a dull throbbing that wasn’t really painful at all. Rhodey looked like he wanted to say something, probably telling him once more how stupid he was for letting the three Rogues into the compound, but Tony really didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It happened, it hadn’t turned into a complete disaster; couldn’t they just move on? “You’re staying until Sunday noon, right? Before flying off to…”

“Oregon,” Rhodey finished, accepting his defeat on the topic of talking about the Rogues. “Yeah. Talking to some veterans there who lost limbs.”

“Maybe Stark Industries should look into building prosthesis,” Tony thought out loud, glad to have something else to focus on. “We first supported the troops by giving them weapons, now we could help them by giving them new limbs.”

“I know a lot of people who would be very happy about it.” There was sincere gratitude in his friend’s voice, and Tony decided right then and there that he would build artificial limbs for soldiers, no matter what the board would say.

Tony’s stomach began to rumble, the hunger gnawing on his empty stomach. Right. Food. The thing he hadn’t had for days. “How about an early dinner?” Rhodey just shrugged, so he took it as an agreement. “FRI, ask Peter what he wants to eat.”

“_Of course, Boss_,” the AI answered. A few seconds later, she said: “_Mr. Parker would like, and I quote, _to feast upon the fresh hearts of his enemies.”

Rhodey’s laugh was so loud (one that started from the deeps of his stomach, absolutely unstoppable and full of joy) that Tony couldn’t even hear himself swear. He also ignored the smile that stretched over his own face. “Jesus Christ. What did that boy _do_? I knew I shouldn’t have him give access to Karen, those two are always up for trouble. I told him to do his homework, not look into cannibalism. Why is he so dramatic?”

“Oh, no idea where he gets _that_ particular trait from.”

“Shut it, or I’m serving him your heart. FRIDAY, tell Hannibal Lecter that we’re ordering pizza, and he better have finished all his homework instead of watching movies he isn’t supposed to.”

* * *

Peter was quite nervous about the weekend at the compound. Not for the more than obvious reasons; finding the Rogues in the kitchen, hearing them still fighting over the Accords, arguing with his father, finding out that earth is probably doomed. No, for a much more ordinary, mundane reason.

Tony had declared it a lab-free weekend. They’ve never done that before. Sure, they got along just fine, they could watch movies, play games, cook, build Legos (with the instructions), or do whatever – but working in the lab had always been an anchor in their relationship. A common topic, a place they could spend hours together, either working together on a project or on their own. And taking it away now? What if everything suddenly got awkward? What if the lab was truly the only thing they actually had in common and without it, their entire dynamic would change and they would slowly drift apart until the only exchanged cards for holidays and birthdays via mail?

Needless to say, the idea made Peter incredibly nervous just thinking about it.

The rest of Friday was spent in an almost boring fashion. They ate their pizza and decided to put on a movie afterwards. Even though questions about what had happened almost burned holes through Peter’s tongue, barely able to contain them, he didn’t ask any. Both Tony and Rhodey had this look in their eyes that told him to just let it rest. There would be plenty of other days he could pester them about them. The opening credits from Jurassic Park weren’t even finished and Tony began to snore – and not the soft kind, but the kind that sounded a lot like a chainsaw – on the couch, all the sleepless nights and the stress of the last days finally catching up to him. They let him sleep, fully aware of how badly he needed this, and opted to just make more popcorn, finish the movie, and talk for quite a while. Rhodey always had a lot of funny stories about Tony, mostly from his college days. When they headed to bed, they woke him up, ushering him to bed as well. Tony didn’t want to move, but Rhodey insisted, telling his friend that his back would kill him the following day otherwise. 

That night wasn’t pretty. Peter was quite sure that he’d spent more time waking up from nightmares than actually sleeping. However, every single time he woke up, Tony was next to him, calming him down and brushing a soothing hand through his hair. After the fifth time Peter startled awake, his father gave up on returning to his own bedroom, and just laid down next to him in his more than spacious bed. The nightmares didn’t magically disappear, but they were less intense.

On Saturday after their breakfast, Tony decided they would go hiking. Rhodey made a comment that Tony hated hiking because it involved so little technology. Tony waved his concerns aside, and packed lunches for them, telling them to wear something comfortable and for Peter to bring his camera. Half an hour later, they were all sitting in Tony’s Audi and the mechanic started to drive, not telling them where exactly they were going, no matter how often they asked. Quite a while later, they parked on a spot that could have either been a very poorly maintained parking lot or not a parking lot at all and started their hike. Peter hadn’t really been hiking before, at least not since he was eight years old, but it was nice. The trail through the forest wasn’t too difficult, and it felt more like a long stroll than anything that he’d associated with hiking. Plus, he got the chance to take some really cool nature shots, which were quite rare in a city like New York. Tony pretended to know literally anything about plants, gave them false Latin names and ridiculous, specific details that were all made up, while Rhodey – who was surprisingly knowledgeable about plants – tried to correct him.

Just in time for lunch, they stopped at a small, but beautiful lake with a clearing. Peter wondered if this was a public space or some kind of private property, but Tony moved around as if he’d owned the place, so the boy figured they wouldn’t get into any trouble. After their meal, Peter wandered around the lake to take more pictures, playing around with all the settings and features they had installed in his camera. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw both men talking pretty animatedly, Tony pointing to things that weren’t there. Without his enhanced hearing, Peter couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he could see Rhodey’s wide grin, so he figured it couldn’t be bad.

The second the boy came back to them, Tony decided to have an impromptu photo shooting, claiming they were both terrible at posing and he had to teach them. Which wasn’t really wrong. Peter had always been way more comfortable behind the camera instead of in front of it. Besides, Tony had been photographed so often, he’d picked up on a lot. And it was fun, contrary to what Peter had thought in the beginning, especially when they were all fed up with taking serious pictures and decided to just have some fun, not caring if they looked silly or not. They got a lot of great pictures out of it; some that could actually make it into a real magazine, and other ones Peter would definitely put into a photo album. Not that he was like, planning to make Tony a photo album for Father’s Day or something. It was purely hypothetical.

Peter fell asleep in the car on their way back the second his head hit the backrest, and only woke up when Tony gently shook his shoulder and the smell of fast food filled his nose. After their unhealthy dinner, Tony and Rhodey taught Peter poker (Tony had suggested Monopoly, which led to a five-minute-long rant from Rhodey why he would never ever play that game again against Tony or Pepper). Or tried to, at least. Apparently, he was incredibly bad at it because he had absolutely no poker face and they always knew when he was bluffing.

Saturday night wasn’t better than Friday night, even though he didn’t really have any nightmares. Because to have nightmares, you have to sleep. Which Peter didn’t. Well, he dozed off long enough for Karen not to initiate the Lullaby Protocol, but it didn’t feel like sleeping. It was restless and left him more tired than before. After what felt like an eternity, his door opened and Tony trotted in, looking not too happy himself. Not even asking what he was doing in his room, Peter just scooted to one side of the bed for his father to lay down, which he promptly did. After that, Peter fell into a dreamless sleep that allowed him to recharge at least a bit.

They all slept in, turning their breakfast into a brunch, and after that they said goodbye to Rhodey. Watching the War Machine suit getting smaller and smaller in the sky, the awkward nervousness creeped back into Peter’s chest. Rhodey had been kind of like a buffer between them, able to smooth things out if it got weird – and now he was gone, and they couldn’t go into the lab. His nervousness was unfounded, though, because Tony just asked him if he wanted to watch some TV, and they spend the better half of the day watching quiz shows, shouting out the right answers, making fun of the contestants, and agreeing that they would absolutely crush it at a show like that. Between making an early dinner, Tony helping him with his homework and upcoming school projects, and playing Mario Kart, Peter realized that they maybe didn’t need the lab as a kind of glue between them. Their relationship was strong enough to not fall apart as soon as they took their common passion out of the equation. That thought alone lifted his spirit so much, it stayed that high until he arrived back at the apartment, greeting May with an over-enthusiastic hug, showing her all the pictures he took, and telling her every that had happened – well, not everything. He left out the Rogues and the little argument he’d had with Tony. He didn’t want to spoil the mood. Besides, he had absolutely no idea how his aunt would react, and he didn’t want to get grounded for screaming at the former national hero.

There were no nightmares or restless sleep that night, so on Monday morning Peter felt pretty good. He took his time in the shower, enjoying the hot water, tamed his stubborn curls with a bit of hair gel, and wore his _If you believe in telekinesis, please raise my hand _shirt, one of his favorites. In the kitchen, May was busy preparing his breakfast – his favorite cereal, completely burn-free – already in her scrubs, ready to head off to work.

“Maybe I could become a nurse, too,” Peter thought out loud as soon as the idea crossed his mind, while shoving two more spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth. May gave him a pointed look, and he swallowed all the cereal before he continued. “A nurse like you. Y’know, helping people and stuff.” That was something he had been thinking about for almost a week – a way to still help people without being Spider-Man. Because that was something he really wanted to do in his life. Help people.

“That’s very noble of you, Pete,” May answered with a small smile, “but you wouldn’t help anybody, ‘cause you faint the second you see some blood.”

“That’s not true! I _can_ see blood!” He’d seen his own blood often enough to lose all squeamishness around the liquid.

“Oh yeah? What about someone vomiting? Or someone shit-“

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Peter yelled with a grimace, May chuckling into her coffee. He didn’t need more visuals while eating his breakfast. “Maybe not a nurse then.”

“You’ll find something else. There are a lot of jobs out there that are all about helping people.”

“Guess you’re right.”

May gave him a smile before dropping a quick kiss on his head and grabbing her purse. “I’ll see you tonight, okay? Have fun at school! Larb you!”

“Larb you, too!”

A few minutes later, Peter was on his way to school, backpack slung over his shoulder, and his inhaler in his pocket. The weather was nice, the sun warming his face, and he couldn’t help the little spring in his step, especially when he saw a familiar cat at the corner of the street. “Oh, hey Murph!” The cat closed his eyes as he stopped to scratch his head, leaning into his touch and purring softly. “Haven’t seen you around, buddy.”

“Well, we’ve been busy.” Peter looked up to see Mr. Delmar smiling down at him. “A shop doesn’t run itself, you know? Besides, you’ve been busy, too. You haven’t been inside here for two weeks.”

Luckily, Mr. Delmar had been able to find a new place for his shop that wasn’t too far from his original one. Peter had been so relieved when he’d heard the news. He’d felt particularly guilty because Spider-Man had been involved in the destruction of his shop. The entire neighborhood had helped Mr. Delmar move and renovate the place, which led to him re-opening his shop only a few weeks later.

“I got a lot of work to do,” Peter explained, still scratching the cat behind its ears. “You know, school, the internship, and… stuff.”

“Stuff, huh? Is that what all the youngsters say these days for causing havoc?”

“Mr. Delmar! I’m hurt! You know me, I would never cause havoc.” The man hummed, giving him a pointed look and clearly not believing him. Not for the first time, Peter wondered if the shop owner had his suspicions about Spider-Man’s identity. But instead of making a cryptic comment, Mr. Delmar told him to wait for a bit, and returned a few moments later with a very familiar bundle. “Is that-“

“Number five with pickles and smushed down real flat. Yeah. Nobody else eats it like that, you know?”

“Everyone else is clearly missing out,” Peter joked, gratefully reaching for the sandwich.

As he was about to pull out his wallet, Mr. Delmar shook his head. “Don’t. This time, it’s on the house.”

“That’s no way to run a business.”

“Okay, then next time, I will charge you twice as much, how about that?”

Peter laughed. “Thanks! You turned this into a great morning!”

Mr. Delmar rolled his eyes, probably trying to look annoyed, but the smirk on his lips betrayed him. “Just get to school and pay attention.”

Peter thanked him one more time, scratched Murph two more times, and then kept walking down the street. He was already wolfing down the sandwich, because even though he hadn’t had an enhanced metabolism anymore, he was still a growing teenage boy who could eat his own weight in food any time of the day.

Just as he swallowed his last bite and threw the paper into the nearest trash bin, someone grabbed his arm. Before Peter could realize what had happened, he was yanked sideways, and his back slammed painfully against something hard, his head bouncing back from it. His entire world was still spinning as something was pressed against his mouth and something else across his chest, pinning him in place.

It took him a second to realize that he was in an alleyway with his back against a wall, a hand over his mouth, and a forearm against his chest. Someone was grinning at him. Someone tall, buff, with next to no hair on his head, a tribal tattoo on his neck, and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Barrett. The guy who shot him. The one who took his powers. A wave of fury washed over him, making him fight against the grip, but to no avail. Regular Peter Parker was no match for Barrett. For once, he wished he’d had his powers, not because he felt inferior or helpless or worthless or whatever, but so he could bunch that man in the face. And through the wall. And the wall behind that wall. You get the picture.

“You’re gonna help me,” Barrett said. He was so close to him, Peter could feel warm puffs of air against his face, and smell his slightly sour breath. Barrett didn’t elaborate how Peter would help him, instead he removed the arm from his chest (Peter tried to break out of the grip once again, but it had the same result as before) to pull something out of a pocket of his long coat. A syringe filled with a thick, greenish fluid. Peter didn’t need his Spidey sense to know that it meant trouble.

“What-“ His question turned into an agonizing scream when Barrett rammed the big needle above his collarbone. Peter had never been the biggest fan of needles, but this felt like he was being stabbed. Tears sprung to his eyes, trailing down his face before he could even register him. Then, Barrett pressed the fluid into his body. Peter could feel the liquid move inside him, leaving a cold and sluggish trail in his body.

For a second, all he could focus on was the feeling of the fluid moving inside of him. It spread out through his body, ignoring veins, organs, bones, and muscles – but it stopped at something. Peter couldn’t tell what it is, but they crashed against each other, shaking his insides, making him nauseous and loosing his sense of orientation for a second. When Peter opened his eyes again, he was on all fours on the grounds, arms shaking, but not from exhaustion.

“Huh,” a voice above him said. Peter needed a moment to realize who was talking to him. “You’re tougher than the other ones. They all immediately passed out.”

He couldn’t even begin to form an answer. Breathing became difficult, but not in the way it got when he was having an asthma attack. Moving his body seemed impossible, because everything felt like chaos. Were his organs in the places they were supposed to be? Peter couldn’t tell. Probably not, though. It wouldn’t feel so wrong if everything was alright.

His eyes landed on his watch. He needed help. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Taking a deep breath, he reached out for the watch, wanting to press the panic button as many times as he could, not really caring if he overreacted or not. Peter didn’t want to die, and he had that terrible feeling that he would if he tried to do this on his own.

His hand never reached the watch. Peter shakily lifted his hand from the ground, but before he could even move it a fraction of an inch, a boot stamped down on it. There was a loud scream, and it took Peter a second to realize that it was his own. It hurt. A lot. Not as much as whatever was happening inside his body, but still. “Don’t move.” Barrett crouched down to him, putting more weight on his hand. A part of Peter wondered if it was already broken. “You know what the problem is when you build something with your own, recognizable style? People recognize it.” He pointed to the watch. “That looks like one of Stark’s things. Bet he gave it a lot of special features if it belongs to his favorite boy toy.”

Peter raised his head, originally to spit and hiss and curse at the criminal, but only a painful, pathetic sound escaped his throat. Barrett grinned, obviously enjoying this. Good. If he enjoyed it, he wouldn’t want it to end. Peter only needed to stall long enough for the watch to transmit his weird vitals to FRIDAY. If he didn’t tap the special pattern in, it would send an alarm.

But one glance at his watch destroyed all of the boy’s hopes. His watch wasn’t picking up any unusual vitals. In fact, according to the device, his heart rate was in perfectly normal parameters. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. How could that be when Peter felt like he was dying?

The weight on his hand increased again, before it suddenly vanished all at once. Still confused about what was going on, feeling his own helplessness and panic climbing up his spine, Peter looked up to Barrett who was standing over him, seeming very pleased with himself. “I kinda need you unconscious.”

That was all the warning he got before he saw a fist flying towards his face. Then, everything went black.

* * *

AC/DC was blasting through the lab and Tony softly sang along while he swept the floor. It took him the entire night and the better part of the morning to tidy up the lab, but he wanted to do this right. After all, getting Peter’s powers back was one of his most important projects. He wanted to be extra thorough. That meant absolutely no distractions until he was finished – besides emergency calls from Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, May, or Peter.

Sweeping the small pile of dust onto the dustpan, Tony’s back ached. Maybe it was time to exchange the broom for a Roomba. He wasn’t getting any younger. After throwing the dirt away, Tony looked back into the lab, mentally checking if he did everything he had to. He had reprioritized the list after his weekend with Peter, keeping the boy’s feelings – and political standpoint, apparently – in mind, had thrown away all the useless sketches, wiped clean and wheeled back all the white boards, gotten rid of all the sticky notes, and saved the files into a highly encrypted folder.

“I say we’re done,” he announced, quite proud of himself. The familiar, satisfied feeling of cleaning up his workshop settled in him. “For now, at least.”

“_Should I lift the _Do Not Disturb Protocol_, Boss_?”

“Sure. What did I miss?”

“_You have got a total of seven voice mails, two from Miss Potts, one from Colonel Rhodes, and four from Mrs. Graham_.” Tony grimaced at that. Mrs. Graham was his secretary at SI, the one Pepper had hand-picked from an absurd number of candidates. And of course, Pepper was very good at picking out a secretary that wouldn’t get irritated by him (not too much, at least) and get him to sign the papers on time. Before meeting the stern, middle-aged woman, Tony had thought that that was a trait that was exclusively Pepper’s. “_There are three activities on your itinerary today, two at Stark Industries, and one at the United Nations headquarters.”_

“Sounds like so much fun. Bet Ross will be there and chew me out about Rogers again. Can’t wait.”

_“There is also a tweet that gained a lot of attention. You are tagged in it and the hashtag #IronManLookAtThis is trending.”_

“Oh?” A small smile tucked on Tony’s lips. Being Iron Man isn’t about being famous, after all he’d been quite well known before he donned his suit and revealed his identity, but he couldn’t say that people wanting to talk to him, looking at him and seeing someone who saves people instead of the man who’s building the weapons who kill them wasn’t nice. “What is that tweet about?”

_“It contains a link which leads to a countdown. It started at 90 minutes, and there are 49 seconds left.”_

“Y’know what, FRI? Let’s pull that up.” At his command, a video popped up on one of the holo-screens. White numbers counted down on a black background, and Tony made himself an espresso before downing it. He was thinking about calling Pepper, maybe talk her into taking a day off. Or maybe, which was a lot more realistic, asking her to end her day a bit early for a spontaneous date night. Absentmindedly, Tony snapped his fingers while thinking about a plan. Dinner and then a movie? Or maybe a play, that was classy and cultivated. Pepper loved classy and cultivated. Happy with his plan, the genius smiled to himself and settled into a chair as the clock on the screen reached the final numbers.

_3_

_2_

_1_

The screen turned completely black before flickering to live again. It looked like a picture. In the background was a grey brick wall, and in front of it sat a person in a chair, completely unmoving, almost lifeless looking. A black bag was put over their head, hands taped to the chair. Dark red spots stained the shirt. A shirt that read _If you believe in telekinesis, please raise my hand._

Tony almost threw up his espresso, and the blood in his veins turned to ice. He knew that shirt. “Track it,” he ordered immediately. He didn’t specify what FRIDAY should track. The IP-address, the watch, the phone – everything. _Now_.

It wasn’t a picture. With the staccato quality of a live-feed, a grinning man stepped into the frame. Barrett. “So nice of you to join us, Iron Man,” he said, wrapping his arm around the person’s shoulders. “I mean, I knew you would, because you’re a little obsessed with me, aren’t you? What? You think I don’t know that you’re doing everything you can to find me? Well, I have to admit, I’m honored, really. Who can say that Iron Man can’t find them?”

The man laughed, squeezing the shoulders of the person in the chair, as if he wanted them to join in. When he got no reaction, he turned back to the camera. “But here’s the thing. You looking for me? Fucking annoying. Makes things really inconvenient for me. So, with this video, I politely ask you to stop. Oh, and to give you a bit more motivation…”

Barret yanked the bag away, revealing the person’s face. Peter’s face. His eyes were only half opened, pupils dilated, and he looked positively drugged up. There was a trail of dried blood underneath his nose. His glasses were gone. His hair was tousled, and his head lolled to the side.

“I found your boy toy!” He grabbed Peter’s chin, and angled his face to the camera. “See? I think you recognize him, don’t you? Such a pretty face. Wouldn’t want anything happening to it – well, anything _more_. He put up a bit of a fight, I have to say. Brave kid.” Barrett let go of his chin abruptly, Peter’s head falling to his chest at once. “Here’s the deal. You turn off all your tracking devices, and I won’t kill this boy. And just to give you a bit more motivation, if they aren’t turned off in an hour… well…”

The smile on the mad man’s face widened, and from behind his back he pulled out a bolt cutter. “Who needs ten fingers anyway, am I right?”

The video cut to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line: "Thanks! You turned this into a great morning!” Because foreshadowing ;)
> 
> I honestly don't know why I put Peter through so much pain. Like, he's one of my favourite fictional characters, why do I hurt him so much? 
> 
> Also, Nat not figuring out that Peter is Spider-Man felt pretty unlikely to me, given all she knows about Peter. 
> 
> The next chapter might take a bit longer to upload. Not because I want to build tension or something, but this is literally the busiest time of the year for me with Christmas (which is the most stressful time of the year in my job), a gazillion birthdays including my own, and a lot of other stuff going on. I honestly don't know how I managed to finish this chapter this year. 
> 
> I wish you all happy holidays, whether you celebrate it or not! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> Thanks so much for all your comments and kudos and bookmarks and what-not, not only for the last chapter but for this entire story! <3
> 
> And thank you to my beta-reader [ghostly-blues](https://ghostly-blues.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Enjoy!

Tony couldn’t breathe. It was completely impossible. How could he breathe when a psychopath held his son hostage?

No, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. This was all a nightmare he was having. Any second now, he would wake up next to Pepper in their bed, Peter in his own bed in Queens with all his vitals totally normal and totally not drugged up. Everything was fine. All he needed to do was wake up.

But he couldn’t wake up.

The edges of his vision began to get blurry from the lack of oxygen. There was a ringing in his ears. His heart was thundering in his chest, beating in an unsteady rhythm that made him nauseous. The pain from his left arm expanded through his entire torso.

If he couldn’t wake up, then this wasn’t a nightmare. And if this wasn’t a nightmare, then…

Suddenly, Tony registered that he was sitting on the floor. Hadn’t he been on a chair? But that wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was Peter.

He still wasn’t breathing, and slowly, his body started to scream for air. Tony tried to take a breath, but he was choking on it, causing more damage than helping.

Peter. He had to find Peter. He had to make sure he was okay, he had to save him, had to bring him home.

Then, there was a noise that broke through he ringing in his ears. It started off unintelligible but something about it stood out from the overwhelming ringing, weaseling its way through his panic and demanding all of his attention. Without really meaning to, Tony focused on the sound.

“-_about twenty minutes after I started patrolling and I passed this little park and there were all these kids and they waved, so I figured I could make a quick stop. Turned out they had some field trip – which I thought was a bit weird, because it was already kinda late for them, y’know? – to learn about insects and nature and everything. Then their teacher asked me if I could-“_

That was… Tony knew that voice.

_“- tell them something about spiders because I’m Spider-Man and the kids seemed so excited, so I was like _yeah, sure, no problem_ even though I hate spiders! Which is _so_ ironic, y’know? Spider-Man being afraid of spiders. Anyhow, all my research I did after the spider bite really paid off. I told them-“_

Peter. That was Peter talking to him. The second his brain came to that conclusion, Tony looked frantically around the room, trying to find him, find the source of his voice because if he was talking to him now than he couldn’t be tied up to a chair and drugged out of his mind.

“-_that spiders aren’t insects but arachnids and everything and then… And then this boy, a really sweet looking kid, asked if spiders shoot their webs out of their hands just like I do and I, the big idiot that I am, said _no, they shoot them out of their butt._ I said butt in front of kids, Mr. Stark!”_

It was a recording. A helpless feeling took over him and washed all the hope that had fueled him only seconds ago out of his body. Peter wasn’t here. The video had been real. This wasn’t a nightmare. Well, it was a nightmare, but not one he could wake up from.

“FRIDAY, turn it off,” Tony ordered in a raspy voice.

“_I am sorry, Boss_,” the AI apologized, “_but you were having a panic attack for over seven minutes, and you were not reacting to anything else_.” Tony took a very deep breath, his head falling against the workbench behind him. He couldn’t think about what FRIDAY’s words meant right now. There would be enough time for that as soon as he holds Peter in his arms again, safe and sound. _“There are several urgent calls on hold for you. I took the liberty to prioritize them.”_

“I don’t have time for calls right now.”

“_I think you should at least answer the first call_.” Tony’s mouth was already open, ready to scream at FRIDAY that there are more pressing matters right now than talking to some people who can’t help him bring Peter back, but she continues. “_It is May Parker_.”

“Shit.” Tony couldn’t ignore her. For one, it was one of The Rules to always pick up the phone when a Parker calls. And Peter was her nephew, her boy, she raised him. He couldn’t leave her on hold. “Patch her through.”

The background noises of a hospital filled the room. A muddled voice spoke through a loudspeaker system, feet hurried down halls, coughs and groans, and an angry woman demanding to speak to a doctor right now because this was, frankly, completely unacceptable and where was the manager – it all became absolutely insignificant as he heard a single word. “Tony.”

May Parker was probably one of the strongest women Tony ever met for several reasons, and it would take him hours to list them all, but he didn’t have the time right now. Even though she was living a relatively mundane life, he would put her right between the likes of Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanoff. To hear her so broken and full of pain ripped his heart in a thousand pieces. The urge to make it better, to heal her pain, was overwhelming, and his mouth was moving before his brain could find the right words. “I’ll fix this, I promise, May. I will find him, I will bring him home, and that bastard will fucking pay for it. I promise, even if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”

May took a shaky breath. “I-I was with a patient when… One of Ben’s old colleagues called and told me about it.” Tony didn’t know if he was relieved that May hadn’t seen the video or not. “If I had known that-“

“No, May, stop that. It’s not your fault. At all. You hear me? You have nothing to do with this shit show.” There was a sound that was probably a sob, but Tony chose not to concentrate on that right now. First, he needed to find Peter, then he could concentrate on fixing all the other problems. “It’s my fault that that sicko took him, and I’m so, _so_ sorry May.”

“Tony-“

“No, it is. He took him to get to me, but he will regret it. I’ll make sure of it.”

The realization that Peter got hurt because of him was the worst kind of torture. And he had quite some experience with being tortured. All Tony ever wanted to do was to protect Peter. Boy, did that go wrong.

“Just bring him home, please,” May begged, the tears clear in her voice. “Then we can discuss whose fault this is.”

“Deal,” Tony tried to joke, but it didn’t work. May made another sound that could have been a sad laugh or a sob or something even more heartbreaking before hanging up. His hands started to shake. Or, most likely, they had already been shaking and he noticed it just now.

“Focus,” he told himself, pressing the word out from between clenched teeth. “You need to focus. Peter needs you sharp. Later, there’ll be plenty of time for more panic attacks.”

Talking to himself didn’t help. Luckily, FRIDAY was aware of that. “_Might I suggest talking to the next person?” _

Absentmindedly, Tony nodded and less than a second later, he heard another female voice. “Tony? Tony, can you hear me?”

“Pep,” he croaked, words suddenly failing him. He was allowed to show weakness in front of Pepper. And Pepper always knew what to do. There was no one better at making a plan than her.

There was an audible sigh of relief on the other end and a heartbeat of silence. Then, she spoke in her business-voice, the one that always told him that he’d better do what she says or else. “Listen to me, Tony. Nothing will happen to Peter. You will find him, and everything will be fine.” Tony tried to say something, to ask her how she could be so sure of that, but no words came out of his mouth. Something tied itself around his throat, making talking and breathing difficult again. “Everything will work out fine. Tell me you understand that.”

“But-“

“No but. No nothing. Everything will be fine. Okay?” Somehow, he managed to give her an affirmation, only to immediately feel like she took Thor’s hammer and hit him right across the chest with it after hearing her next words. “Tell FRIDAY to stop the tracking.”

Tony blinked, thinking he’d misheard her. “What?”

“Stop the tracking. Right now.”

“I can’t!” he exploded, panic overwriting his systems again. “I have to find him before that bastard does anything to him!”

Pepper was silent, but he knew that kind of silence. It wasn’t the one she used when he did something stupid and she was waiting for him to realize his mistake, nor was it the one where she had to gather her patience, nor the rare one when she stared at him with a smile while he rambled on and on about something. No, this silence was the one she used when she had to deliver bad news. “Haven’t you seen it?”

“Seen what?” There was a new ringing in his ears, but Tony wasn’t paying it any attention. The bad feeling in his gut quadruplicated.

“The countdown.”

“What countdown, Pepper?”

Pepper didn’t answer, but she also didn’t need to. As if following a silent command, FRIDAY pulled up two screens. One showing a tweet that read _You’re not listening. Guess you need to be punished_. and a link which led to a countdown that was currently at 24:51. “What the hell is that?”

“Barrett noticed that you didn’t stop the trackers. He cut the time in half.”

The ringing grew louder. Before his inner eye, Tony could see himself and Barrett. The things that were happening in that vision… let’s just say they weren’t very child friendly. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“First, you need to stop the tracking before he cuts down even more time.” Tony’s mouth was already open, but Pepper didn’t give him a chance to speak. “And can you please turn that annoying ringing off, whatever it is.”

“You hear it?” he asked somewhat dumbfounded. For the first time he noticed that the ringing wasn’t like the static-like noise that usually blocked his ears whenever he was panicking.

“Of course, I do. What is it?”

“FRIDAY?” Tony looked around the room, trying to find one of his creations that could produce such an obnoxious sound like that – but he didn’t find anything.

“_I do believe it is the mobile device on your desk, Boss,”_ the AI answered. The second she said those words, Tony spun around, his eyes zooming in on the old flip phone that was still sitting on his workbench. Briefly, he wondered how he forgot to but it away in its proper place during his cleaning spree, but he pushed that thought aside.

This wasn’t just any flip phone. It was the flip phone that was given to him as a present and that he has only used once. Rogers’ flip phone.

“I’ll call you back,” Tony cut Pepper off, who had started talking about something again, but he hadn’t listened anyway. In three quick strikes he was at the desk, hand hovering over the ringing device. Without even knowing why, he hesitated. Then, he remembered Peter and the video and the countdown and everything he would do to Barrett, and grabbed the phone, flipping it open and pressing it against his ear. However, he didn’t get a chance to say something.

“Finally,” Sam Wilson growled impatiently. “I’ve been calling you since that video ended.” Tony blinked, trying to come up with words to articulate all his emotions, but – again – Sam was faster. “Stop the tracking. Right now.”

It was the same thing Pepper told him. The exact same thing, the exact same words. And yet, Tony had a very different reaction to it. While he’d been too baffled over Pepper’s request, he was suspicious about Wilson. Tony couldn’t say where this sudden thought came from, but it was there, demanding attention and getting it.

“Tony? Can you hear me? Shit, is this thing even working? Steve, where did you buy this? How old is this? Did it get stuck with you in that iceberg?”

“Are you working with him?” he asked before thinking twice about it. “Is that why you want me to turn the tracker off?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.” There was a soft voice at the back of his head telling him that he was being paranoid – but the fear and panic inside him because Peter was in danger and everyone around him told him to turn off the only thing that could help Tony find his son was in control right now. Besides, they went against him once already. Who said they wouldn’t do it again?

“Are you- … Are you for real right now?” The hurt in Sam’s voice was unmistakable.

“I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t.”

“Shit, Stark. Do you really think we would work with someone who’s hurting kids? Who’s just waiting for an excuse to cut your son’s fingers off?”

No, he didn’t. He may have lost his trust in his former teammates, but he knew they would never hurt anybody who didn’t deserve it. Especially not children. Sam seemed to be waiting for an answer, and Tony guessed he owed him at least some sort of apology for that. “Sorry,” he pressed out, “I’m just-“

“Worried, I get it. I would be, too. But, listen, you have to stop your tracker. Barrett can tell if you do that or not, and the next link he tweets won’t be to a countdown.”

“I can’t find Peter without the tracker.”

“We can track him.” Tony blinked. What? “We’ve got some technology from… our friends. We can find him.”

“Technology? That’s better than mine?”

“Dude, this is not the time for your ego to get all hurt and shit.” Tony’s mouth was already open, wanting to explain that he wasn’t upset that someone had better technology than him – because he wasn’t so naïve to think that there wasn’t someone else on earth who’s as smart as him – but that he needed that technology to protect his family. “Look, I don’t know if it’s better or not, but it’s different. Barrett can’t track this, but we can track him. Nat and Steve are already working on it. All you need to do is to turn your tracker off.”

There was sound logic behind Sam’s words, but Tony still couldn’t just let go. It was like giving up control and he’d done that often enough to know that it never ended well for him or anyone around him. And he couldn’t risk Peter getting hurt. He didn’t have his powers anymore, he was just a normal human. Normal humans are so damn fragile. Sam was still talking, probably cursing if Tony interpreted it correctly. Fear and panic were still overwriting almost all logical thoughts he had, screaming at him to keep the tracker running, that it was the only thing that could help his son.

“Do it for Peter, Tony,” Sam eventually said, sounding more than a little annoyed. Still, he got Tony’s attention. Maybe because he said Peter’s name or maybe because his brain finally short-circuited on all the bad scenarios running through his head. “He needs you right now. You can’t spiral, you need to function for him. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed. He had to focus on Peter. That, he could do. He did it all the time. Just focusing on what it would feel like to hug Peter again. To know that he would be safe. That was his goal, the vision in his mind that he just had to realize. Setting a goal and finding a way to get to it, even though it seems impossible. He’d already done something like that countless times inside his workshops and labs.

“Turn off the tracker,” Sam reminded him again. “Seriously. Very soon. Barrett isn’t a patient one.”

“Right. FRIDAY?” The AI didn’t give any indication that she turned off the tracking system. Tony was unbelievably grateful for that. He might’ve started spiraling again. And to stop himself from spiraling, he had to focus, had to preoccupy his mind with something useful. He took a deep breath and said: “C’mon, don’t waste any day light, Wilson. Tell me about your plan.”

“Oh, _I’m_ the one wasting daylight?” Before Tony could answer with a snappy comeback, Sam continued. “Like I said, Steve and Nat are tracking him right now.”

“With that different technology.”

“Are really opening that can of worms right now? Don’t we have more pressing issues?”

Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “No cans have been opened. It was just a statement. Keep up, Wilson. Tell me what’s going on, I’m practically blind right now.”

Sam sighed again, but dropped the issue about the technology. Tony didn’t know if he liked that – the bantering had been a good distraction. “They’re still looking for him. But now that he thinks he doesn’t have to hide anymore, he might make some stupid mistake and we can find him easier.”

“_Boss_,” FRIDAY interrupted before they could continue, _“Colonel Rhodes has been very persistent in his attempt to contact you. He said, and I quote_, if you will not pick up in the next three seconds, you will regret the day you moved into his dorm room_, end of quote.”_

“Well, I can’t let my platypus have any more grey hairs, can I? Patch him through.”

The flip phone still pressed against his ear – he wasn’t risking even a second of delay on the tracking front – FRIDAY accepted Rhodey’s call. The very familiar whooshing-sound of one of his suits echoed through the lab. “Tones, what the hell?” he asked the second the call was connected. “I’ve been trying to reach you for ages.”

“Yeah, little busy here.” He half-heard Sam talking to Steve and Natasha.

“So that video was real?”

Tony tried very hard to keep all the hypothetical scenarios of what could be happening to his son right now out of his mind. It didn’t work that well. “Yeah. It was.”

“Shit.” Tony was about to nod until he realized Rhodey couldn’t see it. “What’s your plan? I’m already on my way, I should be there soon.” Suddenly, the mechanic was unbelievably grateful for making the suits so much faster than any normal plane, cutting the flight time down to a fraction.

“I turned off the tracker and-“

“You what?!”

“He threatened to cut his fingers off!” Tony exploded, unable to keep his untamable anger fueled by his worry at bay. “And I bet that psychopath won’t stop there! What other choice did I have? Besides,” he added, taking a very deep breath, noticing that the other side of the flip phone had gone very silent, “the others are tracking him.”

Rhodey didn’t answer immediately, probably trying to find anybody else who could be _the others_. But, of course, he came up empty handed. “The others… as in…”

“You know who I mean.” Rhodey took a deep breath, but didn’t say anything. “They have some sort of different technology that he can’t see.”

“Different? Different how?”

“We didn’t really discuss the details, seeing as my mind is kinda preoccupied with something else.” Tony half expected a comment from Sam, but nothing came.

“I just meant-“

“Got him.”

Just like that, Tony’s entire attention shifted from Rhodey’s call to the one on the flip phone. His heart beat in his throat, threatening to choke him. His blood started to boil, his fingers were itching with the need to move, to do something. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the Iron Man suit already assembling. “Where?”

“An old warehouse or something.” Why did bad things always happen to Peter in warehouses? Why did the bad guys always hang out there? Did they teach them that in criminal 101?

“I need a little bit more than that, Wilson. Coordinates would be great.”

“We’ll send them to you.”

“How? This phone is older than Capsicle.” Sam suppressed the sigh that was no doubt already dying to escape his lips, and instead gave him the latitudes of the warehouse. Without telling her to, FRIDAY pulled up a map, zoomed in on the building and mapped out the quickest route. “I’ll need half an hour, tops. Meet me there.”

“Hey, hold on a second. We need a plan.” There was rustling on his side of the line, no doubt the three of them getting ready to leave as well.

“I have a plan. Get Peter back.” With those words, he hung up the phone, throwing it on the nearest bench before stepping inside his suit. The skylight of the lab opened and he blasted away. FRIDAY transferred Rhodey’s call to his HUD. “I guess you heard that?”

“Most of it, yeah. What do you want me to do?”

“Fly to the compound and get a jet. Then fly to the location FRIDAY just sent you.”

“You don’t want me as back-up?” Even though his friend probably tried not to let it show, Tony could hear the hurt in his voice.

“I obviously do, but I don’t know what shape Peter will be in.” The words pained him, and he did his best to keep all the thoughts about Peter’s state of health right now very far away from his mind. “A jet has medical supplies and a stretcher, at least.” Tony had already thought about telling Happy to get his ass up here and into a jet, but his old bodyguard was in the city. By the time he would reach the compound, Rhodey would already be halfway to the warehouse with the jet. His friend took a deep breath, obviously not happy about the plan, and Tony – despite his best efforts – started pleading. “Rhodey, please. I just- If something really does happen, if I’m too late –“

“You won’t be,” he interrupted Tony’s panicking rambling, voice hard and full of all the confidence that Tony was lacking right now. “You won’t be too late. Nothing will happen to him.”

Something invisible tied around his chest, making him feel claustrophobic, and he felt like Atlas, holding up the sky. Funny, he always thought of the sky as something he wanted to reach, not as something that would smother him. “How do you know?”

“Because you’re Iron Man. Iron Man always saves the day, right?”

Rhodey had always been pretty unimpressed with Tony being Iron Man. At least as soon as the initial you’re-such-a-dumbass state wore off. It probably had something to do with the fact that Rhodey didn’t see him as the unreachable, sassy, and intimidating genius of the millennia, but as the nerdy kid with big glasses and braces whose fingers he needed to patch up after another accident at the soldering iron, who got into fights because even back then Tony didn’t know when to shut his mouth, and who Rhodey had to carry back from the lab to his bed after he fell asleep there – more than once. Or twelve times. Also, he saw him empty the entire contents of his stomach into the toilet often enough. To hear his oldest friend say those words now, Tony did feel a bit better. Still not full of confidence (because his fear of losing Peter was just too great to allow a lot of other emotions), but better.

The flight was complete torture. Tony couldn’t arrive fast enough and dreaded his arrival at the same time. He tried to distract himself by going over the stock of weapons in his suit, having FRIDAY get blueprints of the building, and figuring out possible entry points, routes, secret rooms or structural important points to destroy. He also ordered Happy to get Helen, May, and Pepper to the compound as fast as he could, just in case any of their expertise was needed. Just anything that made him feel at least a little bit prepared for what was about to come.

When Tony saw the warehouse, the urge to simply smash through the ceiling and do everything himself and let that damn building explode and burn to the ground with Barrett trapped somewhere inside was almost overwhelming – but he didn’t do it. Barrett proved to be more cunning than any of them had anticipated, and Tony wouldn’t put it beside the man to already have some kind of plan that involved threatening or hurting Peter. Which was the thing he really wanted to avoid.

So, no blasting through the ceiling and causing havoc, no matter how much every atom in his body screamed for it to happen. Instead, he landed a bit further away, hidden between trees but still near enough for him to see the warehouse without FRIDAY’s help. “Scan the building,” he ordered, the tense pressure building up inside his chest again.

_“My scans show two heat figures moving inside the building._” On his HUD, an x-ray image of the building popped up, two orangy-red figures moving inside. They stood close to each other, one of them quite a bit bigger than the other one.

“Can you find out if it’s Peter?”

_“I am sorry, but I cannot run a scan to verify his identity from this distance.” _

For a terrible second, his paranoid fear that the Rogues actually were working with Barrett and sent him the wrong location overtook him again. He thought about Leipzig, when he realized Romanoff had helped Rogers and Barnes get away. He was back in Siberia, lying in that bunker with Rogers above him, shield high in the sky. Was the next step that Wilson gave him the wrong location, tricking him in stopping his tracker, so he would never see Peter again?

But before Tony could make any decision that he might regret later, FRIDAY alerted him of an incoming jet that was a lot closer to him than Tony would like to admit. As he turned around to watch the jet land, he guessed that it was from the same friends that made the Rogues different technology, seeing that Tony had never seen a jet like that before. And he’d seen a lot of them. At once, his mind started ticking off places and people who could make something like this without him knowing anything about it, but pushed it back again. There was time for that later.

As soon as the jet landed almost soundlessly, Steve, Natasha, and Wilson stepped outside, all of them already suited up. “Took you long enough,” Tony commented, ignoring the fact that he’d arrived only about a minute earlier. But it was a minute in which he could’ve already had Barrett’s ass.

Neither of the three was really fazed by Tony’s snark, knowing that he needed some kind of outlet for his anxiety and he had chosen sass and snarky-ness. “Ready to get your son back?” Natasha asked as they all walked towards the entrance. Tony didn’t answer – it was obviously a rhetorical question.

The warehouse, naturally, looked like every set from every mediocre action movie ever made. The windows were partly damaged, the holes covered in spiderwebs, and the few remaining shards of glass dirty. Large, rusty metal pillars were spaced out across the entire hall, their footsteps echoing off the walls. There were a few marks on the ground, indicating that the heavy machinery laying around must’ve been moved at some point. There were a few muddy puddles here and there that must’ve been days old, considering the last time it rained. Above them stretched a web of connected walkways, most of the railings already broken off.

“Scan,” Tony ordered FRIDAY.

“That won’t be necessary,” a voice boomed from the other end of the hall. Tony’s repulsors charged up, Steve raised his shield, Nat loaded her gun, and Sam spread his wings, all before Barrett stepped onto one of the walkways from an operating room. “Seeing that you’re all already here, I thought I’d quit the hide-and-seek game. And before you even try to do something…”

He pulled Peter in front of him. Tony’s heart clenched and for a second, he forgot how to breath. Peter didn’t look drugged up anymore, but that didn’t mean he looked good. His eyes were wide, determined not to show the fear that was clearly written all over his face. The dried blood still crusted his face, his hair standing up in every direction. Even from this far away, Tony could see a bruise forming on Peter’s cheek. His hands were tied together with duct tape in front of his body. As Barrett pulled him, Peter’s foot slipped off the walkway, almost falling down onto the unrelenting concrete ground – but Barrett caught him. Then, he yanked him in front of himself, using him as a human shield. A gun was pressed to Peter’s head, ensuring he would stay still and not try to fight his way out of this.

Tony almost threw up. It wasn’t any gun, no. It was a fucking Stark gun, the last model they manufactured before he shut down the weapons department. He couldn’t tell if it was a coincidence or some kind of sick joke, but the mechanic just grew more furious. If he could, he would travel back in time, just so he could stop this specific gun from being produced.

“Let him go,” Steve ordered, because Tony couldn’t do anything else but growl. He wanted to shoot that bastard off the walkway so badly, wanted to throw him through the air, and punch him into the ground until the hot rage inside him would finally cool down – but he couldn’t do any of that as long as Peter was between them.

Barrett barked out a laugh. “And then what? You let me go?”

“We all know that won’t be happening,” Sam answered.

“Yeah, we’ve been over this before. So, why would I give up the only advantage I have?” Barrett moved the gun, almost like caressing Peter’s face. Peter flinched slightly, but didn’t give any other reaction to the weapon being so close to him. “Maybe I’ll keep him. Bet you’re already tired of Stark being your sugar daddy, right?”

“Go to hell,” Peter answered, voice full of venom. If he hadn’t had a gun pointed at his face, his hands tied up, and up on a walkway without a railing, Tony might have felt incredibly proud of Peter.

“Peter,” Tony said, his helmet retracting, “everything will be fine. I promise. Trust me, alright?” Upon seeing his father’s face, Peter visibly relaxed. Not entirely, of course, after all there was still a gun way too close to his brain, but his shoulders dropped a bit and he stopped shaking. A new wave of protectiveness flowed through his body, edging him on to do something. “Nothing will happen to you.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Stark,” Barrett smirked, setting the gun underneath Peter’s chin, pulling it upwards a bit.

“Let the boy go before you regret it,” Nat said, her voice almost placatory, maybe trying to reach his humane side. Tony wasn’t so sure if that guy even had a humane side.

Barrett laughed again. “Didn’t you listen? Giving up the boy won’t help me.” At once, Nat raised her gun, obviously ready to shoot – but halted as Barrett moved Peter, so he was directly between himself and her. “I would think twice about that. Because you would only hit – what’s your name again? Peter, isn’t it? Yeah, you would only hit little Petey here. As for the flying cavalry over there…” He edged Peter further on, his feet only half on the walkway. “I think gravity still works faster than you.”

“You’re a dead man walking,” Tony spat, because FRIDAY already calculated how fast he had to be to catch Peter. It wouldn’t be such a problem if he were already in the air and flying, already at top speed – but he wasn’t. He was on the ground, not moving at all.

“Last chance to agree toletting me go,” Barrett shouted, ignoring Tony’s oath.

“We can’t let that happen,” Steve answered after a moment of hesitation. He’d probably wondered if Tony would object to it, but Tony had other plans. He would find a way to do both – safe Peter and kill Barrett. After all, he was the kind of guy who would cut the wire.

Barrett sighed deeply, letting his head fall to his chest for a heartbeat in fake disappointment. “Well, if that’s the case…” He yanked Peter around to face him, careful not to let him slip off the walkway. Peter’s hands grabbed Barrett’s arm that was holding him out of instinct, and for a split second, Tony thought about just flying up there and picking him up – but then Barrett pressed the gun against Peter’s forehead, finger already on the trigger. Tony’s stomach dropped. He was fast, but not faster than the bullet that would penetrate Peter’s skull. The almost silent curse told him that Sam was thinking the same.

“Any last words?” He asked Peter with a smile. Tony expected either rambling, stony silence, or a curse – but instead, Peter spat right into Barrett’s face. The anger in Barrett’s eyes darkened his entire face. “You know what? I’m not going to keep you around after all. Let go.” Peter didn’t let go of his arms. Barrett pressed the gun further against his head, causing the boy to lean over the walkway. He gently pulled the trigger back, not to the point where the gun would go off, but close enough – Tony knew exactly how close it was; after all, _he’d_ been the one that designed it. “Let go or I’ll blast your brains out. If you fall, you might at least have a chance to live on as a cripple.”

There was a heartbeat in which Tony thought Peter would actually chose the bullet over the fall – the thought that Peter might survive a fall like that even without his powers had already crossed Tony’s mind, and he was more than glad that he told Rhodey to get the jet – but then, in slow-motion, the boy let go of Barrett’s arms, hands still raised in the air, ready to grab anything if he got the chance to.

Barrett smile turned shark-like. “I would say it’s been a blast, but you were kind of a handful to handle.”

“Thanks,” Peter croaks out, his voice simultaneously shaking with fear and full of his old Spider-Man confidence, “that’s the vibe I was going for.”

Barrett sighed, apparently not used to the way teenagers talked nowadays – and then he shoved him off the walkway.

Peter fell.

“NO!” The scream ripped out of Tony’s throat, so full of agony and pain like he never imagined it would be possible. He’d already seen Pepper and Rhodey fall – he couldn’t see his son fall, too.

And, suddenly, Tony didn’t see him fall. Because Peter wasn’t falling anymore, his hands grabbing the walkway.

No. Not grabbing it.

They stuck to it, only the top of his fingertips touching the metal.

For a moment, time stood still. Nobody dared to take a breath.

Then, Peter’s fingers began to tremble.

Tony’s helmet reappeared and in an instant, he was in the air, shooting through the warehouse to get to Peter at maximum speed. Besides him, Sam took off, too, but taking a high route. At this point, Tony didn’t really care about anyone else in the room anymore, because Peter’s fingers slipped from the walkway, sending him falling to the ground again.

This time, Tony didn’t have to watch a loved one crash into the ground. He caught Peter about four feet before he could hit the concrete, cradling against his chest before stopping and finally landing. The second they touched the ground, the Iron Man suit opened up and Tony stumbled out, hands already reaching for Peter again. “You okay?” he asked breathlessly, his heart beating in his throat, while his hands couldn’t stop moving across Peter’s body, checking for any hidden injury.

Peter’s eyes were wide and they started to well up with tears – Tony hoped it was a reaction to shock or something, and not because he was in actual pain – but he nodded, shaking like a leaf. Tony’s shoulders slumped down as his heart jumped into his throat before settling back into its original place. “Thank God,” he whispered, and engulfed Peter into a hug, continuing to thank every kind of deity he ever heard of, fate, karma, and what- or whoever was responsible for this.

“You’re never leaving my side again,” Tony continued to ramble (too relieved to stop the word-vomit), one hand around Peter’s back, the other one in his hair, holding him as close as possible. “Never again. You hear me? Never. It’s like being grounded, only more. You know those backpacks with leashes they make for young kids? You’re getting one of those. With a Hello Kitty design. No, scratch that. Better idea. You’re going to stay here, in my arms. That’s where you’re going to life from now on. Get used to it. You don’t need to go to school anyway, you’re already smart enough. I can teach you everything else. And if I can’t, Pepper can. Or May. No need to ever take a single step outside the Tower again.”

“I’m sticky again,” Peter interrupted his rambling, voice small and shaky and muffled by Tony’s shoulders, but so full of hope and happiness.

Tony couldn’t help but close his eyes, seeing Peter sticking to the walkway in his inner eye, the image burned into the back of his eyelids. “Yes, you are,” he agreed. “You’re sticky.” He pressed a kiss to Peter’s temple, then another one, and a third because all good things come in threes, and they really needed some good things right now.

He felt a laugh bubbling up inside his chest, but before it could escape, Peter suddenly pushed against him, trying to free himself out of his embrace. Out of instinct, Tony tightened his grip, but Peter kept pushing, starting to mumble something unintelligent, so Tony let him go petulantly – just in time. Peter turned around, took a couple of steps, and then vomited on the floor, almost falling over because he had trouble keeping his balance with his hands still tight together.

Naturally, Tony’s anxiety spiked up again. He was at Peter’s side before he even knew it, steadying him, and careful to avoid the sick on the ground. “Peter?” he asked, rubbing – hopefully – soothing circles across his back.

“I’m fine,” Peter wheezed – which was promptly contradicted by more vomit. Tony felt completely helpless, only being able to keep rubbing his back and rambling soothing words, that seemed to bounced off of Peter’s ears.

By the time Peter emptied all of his stomach and his legs were so weak Tony was supporting all of his weight, the billionaire registered a movement out of the corners of his eyes. He whipped his head around, the Iron Man suit springing into action and raising a charged up repulsor – aiming right at Sam, whose hand flew into the air, wings folded inside his backpack. “Woah, easy,” he said, eyes jumping from the very deadly suit to Tony. “Just want to make sure the kid’s alright.” His eyes move back to the suit. “If that’s okay.”

Tony knew that Sam was no threat, but he still hesitated for a second, his parental side screaming at him to not let anybody near his boy. But then Peter groaned out a weak okay – Tony thought about interpreting it as unintelligible and therefore ignoring his decision – and Sam stepped forward, guiding them away from the vomit, before lying him on the ground. Tony’s anxiety spiked once more when Sam took out a small knife, the blade only a couple of inches long, but the ex-soldier only cut Peter’s ties. With a sort of professional routine, Sam checked Peter for injuries, asked him some simple questions, looked at his pupils, stuff like that, all the while Tony hovered close to them, ready to tackle the former Avenger to the ground if he made a wrong move. Only halfway through the little examination, Tony told the Iron Man suit to stand down.

“He looks okay,” Sam eventually said, leaning back to give Peter a bit more space. But the boy was content with lying on the floor, still shivering, but looking a little less pale. “Just adrenaline leaving his body, and shock.”

Peter opened his mouth, ready to say something, but stopped. Lightning fast, his eyes snapped to Tony, before settling back on Sam. “Thanks,” he settled on at last.

“Sure, no problem. Glad you’re in one piece,” Sam offered with a small smile.

“Yeah, thanks for that, too,” the boy huffed out with a humorless laugh.

Tension filled the space between them, and Tony was about to tell Sam to leave for no good reason other than that he wanted to be alone with Peter, but Sam had other ideas. “Look, man, I gotta ask,” he said, almost sounding apologetic. “Those fingertips?”

Tony tensed, internally cursing. He hoped that the others would mistake Peter’s sticky fingertips as him grabbing the walkway. After all, they’ve been quite a bit away and it did look similar if you didn’t know the difference. However, he knew better than to hope his former teammates were too stupid to notice things like that. Peter stilled, too. But to Tony’s surprise, he didn’t look to Tony for any reassurance as to what to do, just kept his gaze on Sam like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, he said: “Those wings carbon fiber?”

Sam kept staring at Peter with a blank expression, while Tony did his best to keep a straight face. He didn’t know why the material of Sam’s wings were suddenly important or if Peter just tried a drastic topic change. However, Peter held Sam’s gaze, obviously waiting for something.

“Damn,” Sam eventually cursed under his breath, barely loud enough for Tony to hear, “I nearly threw hands with a thirteen-year-old.”

“He’s not thirteen,” Tony corrected him at the same time as Peter asked: “You know memes?”

“Let’s just say,” the ex-soldier said with a little smile pulling on his lips, “that the place where I’m staying at also has teenagers and internet access. It’s inevitable.”

“Tony,” a voice behind him called out, and the mechanic almost jumped. He wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised to see Natasha behind him. She was very good at creeping up at people. Her eyes flickered down to Peter, resting there for a second, before meeting his. “Do you want to come with me?” It took him a second to realize what Nat was asking. Barrett wasn’t here anymore, and Steve and Nat had been absent for quite a while. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what they had been doing.

And Tony wanted to follow her. He wanted to punch Barrett until he had no teeth left in his mouth. He wanted to blast him with his repulsors, shoot him with the gun he’d held against Peter’s head, and make him pay for what he’d done.

But once again, all his wants clashed against one, single need. The need to stay with Peter. He couldn’t leave his side – he’d only been half joking when he said Peter would live in his arms now. And taking him to Barrett? Completely out of the question. Tony wanted him as far away as possible from that psychopath.

So, even though his mind has been filled with plans of revenge only a few minutes ago, the decision was surprisingly easy to make. It must have shown on his face, because all Nat did was smile an unusual gentle smile before giving him a short nod. “We’ll make sure he regrets ever thinking about this.” Oh, Tony had no doubt about that. Besides, she was probably way better at making someone pay and dragging it out. Tony would just straight up kill him, cutting Barrett’s suffering short because he was too impatient. And he wanted Barrett to suffer for a long time.

“We got his stuff,” she added, holding up a large bag for Tony to take. “All of the stuff he used should be in there.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, taking the bag and sneaking a glance in there. There was a lot more in there than he had expected, some things glowing in eerie colors like purple and green.

“_Boss_,” FRIDAY called out from the Iron Man suit, _“Colonel Rhodes is only a few minutes away. He informed me that several other military aircrafts are following him, despite his efforts to stop them.”_

“That sounds like we should go,” Sam announced, standing up and walking over to Natasha. Peter sat up, but before he could even try to stand up, Tony put a hand on his shoulder.

“Probably,” Tony agreed, “unless you want to chat with Ross.”

“That’ll be a hard pass.”

Tony gave them a laugh that sounded less awkward than it felt, before clearing his throat. A part of him wondered if he should step outside to find Steve and tell him the same, but decided that they didn’t really have the time for that. “Thanks. For helping.”

Nat smirked. “That was very heartfelt and so elaborate. Really moving.”

“Well, I could add a few lines, but I think we’re kinda on the clock here, right?” Even though Tony rolled his eyes, he could feel the muscles in his cheeks twitch, like they were just waiting to smile. Of course, he didn’t. They weren’t there yet. 

“He’s right,” Sam agreed. “We should go.” They all nodded at each other, a silent, very awkward good-bye. Peter managed to mumble a quiet thank you and goodbye, still too weakened by everything that happened to manage something that would match his usual hyper-active self.

Tony didn’t watch his former teammates leave. Instead, he turned back to Peter and sat down beside him, pulling him against his chest immediately. There were a lot of questions on Tony’s mind, from asking him what exactly happened and what he could remember to what that conversation with Sam was all about, but he pushed them into a different corner of his mind. They weren’t important right now. “How are you feeling, champ?” he asked instead, one hand running through his hair. Peter leaned into the touch at once.

“Awesome.” The weirdest part of the answer? It was completely honest. Even though Peter literally just escaped death and also looked like it, the smile he gave him was blinding. “I’m sticky again.”

“I know. And a really dramatic reveal, too. 10 out of 10, but let’s not make a habit of getting into dangerous situations or-“

“-or you’ll really get me a Hello Kitty leash backpack, I know.”

“Guess you really are smart, huh?” Peter laughed again, closing his eyes and grabbing Tony’s arm, maybe to ground himself or just because he wanted to be close to him. Tony wasn’t complaining.

“Hey,” Peter said after a moment of silence, and waited until Tony actually moved his head to look him into his eyes. “Thanks for saving me, Dad.”

Tony could feel his heart melt. Literally. If he hadn’t been sure before, he sure as hell was now – there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for his son. Nothing. “Of course, buddy. I’ll always come if you need my help. No matter what.”

“I know,” Peter murmurs, pressing his face in Tony’s chest again. “But still. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Tony answers, pressing another kiss into his hair. “Rhodey’s not far out. We do a quick medical check on the jet and sending the results to Helen, so she can make a game plan.”

“He gave me a weird injection,” he mumbled. “That green stuff. Felt really weird. Like, _really_ weird, but my watch didn’t pick up anything.” Suddenly remembering something, Peter opened his eyes again, craning his neck to look into his face. “He took my watch.”

“I’ll make you a new one.” Peter hummed in response, and Tony ran his fingers through his curls again, trying not to think about what kind of injection it had been and what it did to him or what it could still do to him – now, he just tried savoring the moment. “What about your other powers? Are they back, too?”

“No,” Peter answered with a slight grimace. “My senses are still normal. And I don’t feel that strong.”

“That could also be the crash from too much adrenaline in your body.”

“Guess you’re right.”

Even though Peter clearly tried not to show it, Tony knew he was devastated that his powers weren’t fully back yet. “Hey,” he said a lot softer than he intended to, “don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll just need a little bit longer. Besides, with Barrett’s stuff in the backpack, we have everything we need to figure out what happened to you. We can find a cure.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his head rolling to the side to look at the backpack. “That’s true.” In the distance, Tony could pick up the sounds of a jet getting closer. He was about to haul them both up to their feet when Peter asked: “Hey, do you think I’ll get alien powers now, too?” Tony only snorted in response.

* * *

Rhodey almost crushed Peter in his hug before they ushered him inside the jet, not only for him to get checked out with proper equipment, but also to be airborne again before the other jets could arrive and start asking questions that would take hours to answer. Nobody had the time for that, especially not Tony who was still so tense that you could feel it radiating off him. Peter sat down as Rhodey got the jet in the air for FRIDAY to take over, Tony by his side, and before they could even begin the first test, he was already asleep, the lack of adrenaline and his exhaustion finally winning.

Sometime later – a couple of hours, as he was informed later – he woke up in the medbay of the compound, surrounded by various machines and people watching him with eagle’s eyes. Though, it were pretty teary eagle’s eyes. Before anyone of them could move, however, Helen stepped forward, explaining that she executed all the tests she needed to do while he had been asleep. He appeared to be in good health and the alien energy from the gun had separated itself from his spider DNA – only to latch on to the other alien energy inside him that was from the injection. Contrary to her first theory to her first theory that the first alien energy worked like a virus, Helen concluded that the energy just looked for a place in his body to settle, and his spider DNA, thanks to his enhanced healing factor, was the first thing it came in contact with and dominated it, shutting down its power. She couldn’t extract the energies out of his body just yet, but they seemed to be harmless to him, fighting each other instead of his DNA. She also didn’t have an answer to his question if he’ll get cool alien powers now – she mentioned that they might cancel each other out –, but she did promise him to look into it while she studied the samples they got from Barrett’s bag. No one else seemed to be excited about the prospect of Peter getting more powers.

As soon as Helen was finished with her explanation, ordering him a lot of rest and for him to tell her if he felt weird in any way, May leaped forward, practically jumping onto his bed to engulf him into a smashing hug, pressing kisses all over his face. There was a part of him that told him to be embarrassed because he was basically an adult now and she treated him like a kid and _Iron Man and Pepper Potts _were in the same room – but he didn’t care. Not even a little bit. Tony appeared on his other side, putting his hand in his neck and squeezing it, while Pepper gave him a soft smile, wiping at the corner of her eyes and grabbing his hand. Rhodey and Happy were there, too, standing at the foot of his bed, giving him encouraging smiles. Which was huge for Happy, basically the equivalent of signing adoption papers.

Surrounded by his family and finally safe, Peter felt his nose starting to prickle and before he could stop it, tears were streaming down his face and a sob tore out of his throat, the last few hours catching up with him. He had been kidnapped, drugged, held hostage, and thrown through the air, almost crashing to the ground, which would’ve left him with a broken spine at best. It had been beyond terrifying, and even though he would never admit it to Tony, there had been a point where he’d thought nobody would come for him, that he would die in that warehouse. (And Peter was so tired of warehouses. If it were up to him, he would never step into one ever again.) But, somehow, it turned out fine. While he bawled his eyes out, May rocked him softly, mumbling sweet nothings into his ear, reassuring him that everything was fine, and Tony’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on his neck.

For the entire week, Peter stayed at the compound. Helen wanted to do a few more tests and kept a close eye on him, just in case the two energies were turning dangerous for him. Peter wasn’t complaining. He felt drained, and the compound always felt a bit like its own world, so far away from the city that Peter knew like the back of his hand. Tony hardly left his side, which was also something the boy wasn’t complaining about. Pepper and May left during the day for work, and Rhodey had to fly back to Oregon. Happy pretended to be extra grumpy about driving between the compound and the city so much, but by now Peter knew it was more of a façade than real grumpiness.

His powers came back little by little. Back when the spider had bitten him, Peter had experienced the worst night of his life before suddenly waking up in a seemingly new world. This wasn’t like it. It took all of Tuesday and Wednesday for all of his powers to make a reappearance. The first one was, weirdly enough, his enhanced sense of touch. One second everything was fine, and the next every sensation was too much – his shirt too itchy, the couch he was sitting on too hard, his jeans too heavy, and the slightest wind from the AC left like a million little needle pricks. Tony reacted quickly and brought all the gadgets and pills he made weeks ago for his sensory overload. They actually really came in handy because no matter how happy Peter was about getting his powers back, sensory overload still sucked, and this felt a lot like it after not experiencing it for two weeks.

His perfect vision came back slowly, almost unnoticeable for him until his glasses were suddenly making his head ache, and the sun outside seemed to bright. The first thing he heard when his hearing got better was Tony’s heartbeat and Peter almost started to cry in relief. His taste came back in the middle of devouring his second pizza (because his super-metabolism was back, too), and on Wednesday he woke up to the smell of fresh pancakes coming from the kitchen. The tingle at the back of his neck made a reappearance when Happy tripped because he missed a step, Peter calling out for him to watch out before anyone else – including Happy himself – even noticed what had happened. When he unhinged his bathroom door by accident, he knew he got his strength back, too.

Then, on Thursday, Spider-Man was back. From the second Helen and Tony (and also May and Pepper) gave him the green light to finally get back into his suit, Peter couldn’t stop grinning. Happy was complaining the entire car ride that he made the car vibrate with his inability to keep still. But Peter really didn’t care. He hadn’t been swinging around Queens for _ages_. But being Spider-Man again came with one condition: Iron Man was with him. Which was not the same as doing it on his own, but Peter took the deal nevertheless. Besides, Spider-Man and Iron Man hardly paired up unless something big was going on, which inevitably also meant a lot of pain and chaos and being screamed at for doing something _stupid_ and _reckless_.

That’s how all of Queens could watch Iron Man and Spider-Man racing through the city, both of them claiming they could navigate best between the buildings. Tony told him off a few times for doing seemingly dangerous stuff, like waiting until the last second before shooting a web to catch himself or doing unnecessary stunts, but Peter just laughed. He’d missed that swooping feeling in the stomach and the ability to defy gravity _so_ much. The people of Queens cheered for him when he swung by, calling out for him that they missed him, three people even asking for a selfie which he happily complied to. When the sun began to set, they got themselves some take-out – the customers and employees of Burger King couldn’t stop staring at them, all suited up, queueing up to get their order – and Peter showed him his favorite spot, the rooftop from which he could see all of Queens.

Oh, and they also stopped crime, of course. It wasn’t all just for fun.

Friday, however, was less fun and more nerve-wracking. Peter sat on the couch, munching on the carrot sticks Tony brought him as a snack – _“No more cheeseburgers or gummy worms for snack time, FRIDAY found out that they’re not appropriate, so don’t even dare to use those Puppy Eyes of yours!” _– while watching his father pace in front of him. He was wearing a very fancy and expensive looking suit, a pair of sunglasses stuck in his breast pocket. Pepper sat to Peter’s left, StarkPad in her hand and going over the statement one more time, and May was on his other side, watching Tony panic, too, with a small smile on her face that did nothing to hide her own worry. Weirdly enough, Peter didn’t feel as worried about what was going to happen as anyone else – which made him worry. Should he be more worried?

“We can still call this entire thing off,” Tony said, readjusting his cufflinks.

Pepper gave him a very unimpressed look. “The reporters are already in the other room, Tony. You’re supposed to be out there in a few minutes.”

“Well, it’s known that I like to be spontaneous and change my mind. It’ll be like the good old days.” Pepper’s look got even more unimpressed which was, frankly, very impressive. “Or,” Tony continued, sensing that wasn’t the right thing to say, “we could announce something different. Tell them about, I don’t know, the camera?”

“The idea was literally just approved. Letting the public know this early would be madness.”

“Fine, not the camera, then, I can just –“

“You’re not making up some new invention on the spot.”

“Something personal then.” May raised her eyebrows in part amusement and part disbelief. “Something _different_ personal.” For a second, Tony seemed to think about it before snapping his fingers and pointing at Pepper. “How fast can you get pregnant?”

Pepper looked at him like she tried to figure out if her fiancée had finally lost his mind. Peter couldn’t tell what conclusion she came to. “Shouldn’t you know how that works?”

Tony started to smirk. “Well, Miss Potts, how about some hands-on demonstration and a refresher course for-“

“Stop,” Peter interrupted him, not even wasting any time on swallowing down the food in his mouth, face pulled into a grimace. “I’m literally begging you to stop. Please don’t do this while I’m still in the same building.”

“I’m just saying,” Tony said, ignoring Peter’s plea, “that we don’t have to stick with the original plan. It’s not too late to come up with something else.”

“I want to go with the original plan.”

On Thursday, before they had been patrolling through Queens, Stark Industries’ PR manager had paid them a visit to address the elephant in the room. The live-video stream Barrett had put on the internet. Millions of people had seen it, news covered it, people all over the world discussed it on social media. It wasn’t something new that Tony got a lot of attention for something, but the problem was the idea Barrett put into their heads, intentional or not. The idea that Tony was having a sexual affair with a minor.

The PR manager had explained – after Tony had finished his 15-minute-long rant if people were seriously so stupid and disgusting to believe that – that they could try to ignore it, that if they just keep silent and wait, people might forget about it. But they all knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Rumors like that weren’t forgotten easily. Police might get involved, checking up if there was anything even a little bit true about them. Every time some paparazzi would get a picture of them together, the rumors and speculations would resurface. Which meant they would have to do everything to keep their relationship hidden. Only meeting in the Tower or maybe at the compound, making sure no one followed them, being very careful about what they would say and what not.

Or they could tell everyone that Peter was his son. There were already theories about that, as well as a few absurd ones, but they were mostly ignored in favor for the drama of the scandal. Telling the public that they were related would mean a lot of media attention for – probably – the rest of Peter’s life. Being Spider-Man would be more difficult, because everyone would tail him, trying to sneak a few pictures. Then there were all the expectations and the pressure that came with being a Stark, even though Peter had no intention of changing his name.

However, Peter didn’t like the thought of not being able to be just… them. He didn’t want to sneak around so he could see his father, didn’t want to just meet him in high security buildings, and act like they don’t know each other in public. No, he wanted for them to be normal. He wanted Tony to be there for important Decathlon competitions or his graduation. He wanted to be part of Tony’s and Pepper’s wedding. He wanted to go with him to Delmar’s and order two number fives with extra pickles, smushed down really flat. He wanted to try every ice cream parlor in all of Queens and Manhattan with him like Tony had joked once. He wanted Tony to teach him how to drive and he wanted to go to the mall with him and look for ridiculous Christmas gifts and he wanted to go to the park with him and play ball. He wanted to do everything any other father and son duo could do.

Peter wouldn’t let some nasty rumors that Barrett spread be the reason for him not to have that.

So, the decision had been surprisingly easy, much to the distaste from every adult around who thought he hadn’t thought about it enough. But he did. He knew that revealing himself to be Tony’s son wouldn’t be easy, but Peter absolutely hated the alternative.

Tony watched him for a second, looking for the smallest indication of doubt on his face. But there was none. “Maybe we should think this over.”

“No,” Peter said, swallowing down the remains of the carrot and setting the plate aside. “I’m sure. I’m fine with it.”

“You do realize what this means, right? It won’t end when your summer break starts or when you graduate or whatever – it’s going to be permanent. Forever.”

“Well, I plan to stick around forever, so that’s perfect.” Tony started to blink in surprise, the carefully crafted, nonchalant mask slipping from his face at Peter’s blunt statement. Peter held his gaze, not backing down on this one. He knew the risk, and he’s willing to take it. “I’m not ashamed to be your son.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out of it. His eyes started to glaze over.

“You made him speechless,” May teased with a smirk. “You should put that in your resume.”

Peter snorted. “I think nobody would believe me.”

“I’m sure FRIDAY recorded all of it,” Pepper added and put the StarkPad away, finished with her final check of the statement.

_“Of course, Miss Potts.”_

“You’re all conspiring against me,” Tony finally said, and sniffed twice. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s what families do,” Peter grinned. This was his family, maybe a bit dysfunctional and unconventional, but his. And he loved it. The thought made him feel all giddy inside, pushing the anxiety about the next few days, weeks, and months away. Out of an impulse, he got up and walked over to Tony. The smiles on their faces mirrored each other. “I’m serious about this. I know it won’t be easy, but it’s okay.”

“I just don’t want you agreeing to this because you think you have to,” Tony confessed in a soft voice, meant only for Peter to hear. “Don’t do this because you think you have to save my reputation or anything. I can handle it.”

“I want to do it.” Peter would describe the expression on Tony’s face as mushy, but no one would believe him, anyways. “Besides, I can’t wait to tell everyone what a helicopter-parent you are.”

“Oh, so that’s what you’re really after? Embarrassing me? I see,” Tony deadpanned, but it wasn’t convincing. Not when the wide smile was already spreading on his face again. A second later, he pulled Peter in for a hug, one which Peter melted into immediately. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into his hair, knowing Peter would hear him, “and I’m so proud to be your father.”

Peter smiled into his shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter around Tony, careful not to hurt him. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, Pete.” He gave him a quick kiss on his cheek – something that had happened a few times this past week – before stepping away, straightening his tie, re-readjusting his cufflinks, and putting on his sunglasses. “Now, Miss Potts, I think we have a room full of reporters waiting for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite line of the chapter: "I'm sticky again."   
Favourite chapter of the story: chapter seven. 
> 
> This story was such a rollercoaster for me. Not gonna lie, after reading some of your comments throughout the story, I thought about changing the ending. Because - no matter how much I try to ignore it - I'm a people pleaser and I get so, so worried if people like what I do. Like, I thought about it a lot. But then, all the little things I worked into it wouldn't work anymore, so I just decide to do what I want to happen and not think too much about if anyone else likes it (which is not going well at all, my anxiety is going crazy).   
I never wanted this story to be something that fixes the end of Civil War, just a kind of reminder that they can work together if they have to. I wanted Steve and Tony to have little interaction because they're still awkward around each other. I wanted Sam to find out that Peter is Spider-Man because Peter makes a reference to their fight. Will Sam tell Steve? Idk. I don't think it's realistic that Steve doesn't find out about it, but I also really love the idea that everyone knows that Peter is Spider-Man except Steve to the point that it gets ridiculous. 
> 
> Is this the end of the series? I don't know.   
I have no idea for what could happen next. I mean, I have a few, but not enough for a story. I have no idea what to do with the alien energies inside Peter because that was kinda a last minute decision. There is a part of me that says this feels like an ending. The series started with them finding out, and now the rest of the world finds out. Also, I like trilogies.   
But, honestly, I'm not ready to let them go. I like this little universe I build. I got attached.   
So, if there's anything you might be interested in reading, please let me know! 
> 
> Thanks for reading this! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://jen27ny.tumblr.com/)!


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